"I Didn't Move; You Did" (Part 5): An Evangelical Manifesto (2008)

 In my first post, I explained why I have become increasingly uncomfortable identifying as an evangelical, as it has become increasingly willing to excuse attitudes, behaviors, and priorities that seem incompatible with the character and teaching of Jesus as taught to me in my evangelical upbringing.

My second post began to offer a sampling of decades of statements beginning in the 1970s put out by evangelical leaders and organizations.  

The third post was about a major manifesto in the 80s called the Manila Manifesto, published at the Second International Congress on World Evangelization (Lausanne II) held in Manila, Philippines in July 1989.

The fourth post highlighted the Amsterdam Declaration (2000) and The Health Of Our Nation (2004).

This post remains in the 2000s. There will be two more 'declaration' posts to consider after this one, and then we will move into the contrast between the conservative evangelicalism in which I was raised vs. what it has now become.

I know this is a lot of background, but the framing is important. 

"I Didn't Move; You Did" (Part 4): The Amsterdam Declaration (2000) and The Health Of Our Nation (2004)

 In my first post, I explained why I have become increasingly uncomfortable identifying as an evangelical, as it has become increasingly willing to excuse attitudes, behaviors, and priorities that seem incompatible with the character and teaching of Jesus.

My second post began to offer a sampling of decades of statements beginning in the 1970s put out by evangelical leaders, organizations, denominations, colleges, and ministries. They provide a record of what the movement publicly claimed to stand for, even if evangelicalism did not always live consistently with its principles.

The third post was about a major manifesto in the 80s called the Manila Manifesto, drafted by the British evangelical pastor and theologian John Stott along with  the drafting team at the Second International Congress on World Evangelization (Lausanne II) held in Manila, Philippines in July 1989.

This post will look at two key declaration released in the 2000s.

Billy Graham released the Amsterdam Declaration in 2000. You can read the whole thing here. The Amsterdam Declaration is a lengthy document. Much of what it contains is a reiteration of historical Christian positions of both orthodoxy and orthopraxy in evangelical Christianity. It’s well worth your time to read the entire declaration.  I am posting sections that highlight what used to be mainstream evangelical beliefs that led to particular kinds of practices.

"I Didn't Move; You Did" (Part 3): The Manila Manifesto (1989)

In my first post in this series, I explained why I have become increasingly uncomfortable identifying as an evangelical, as it has become increasingly willing to excuse attitudes, behaviors, and priorities that seem incompatible with the character and teaching of Jesus.

 

My second post began the process of offering a sampling of decades of statements (beginning in the 1970s) put out by evangelical leaders, organizations, denominations, colleges, and ministries. They are declarations and manifestos explaining what they believed Christian evangelicals should value and how Christians should engage the world. They provide a record of what the movement publicly claimed to stand for, even if evangelicalism did not always live consistently with its principles.

 

This post is about a major manifesto in the 80s called the Manila Manifesto. The Manila Manifesto was produced and drafted by the British evangelical pastor and theologian John Stott. He led the drafting team at the Second International Congress on World Evangelization (Lausanne II) held in Manila, Philippines in July 1989. [1]

"I Didn't Move; You Did" (Part 2): Evangelical Declarations in the 1970s

 In my first post, I explained why I have become increasingly uncomfortable identifying as an evangelical. My concern is not that evangelicalism has become too conservative or too liberal (depending what branch of evangelicalism you are in). My concern is that it has increasingly abandoned a prophetic critique of attitudes, behaviors, and priorities that seem incompatible with the character and teaching of Jesus in favor of partisan allegiance.

Even as I recounted my memories of growing up evangelical in my previous post, I realized that memories can be selective. Nostalgia has a way of polishing the past, and personal experience is never the whole story. So before I make my case, I want to start with something more objective than my recollections.

For decades, evangelical leaders, organizations, denominations, and ministries regularly published statements, declarations, and manifestos explaining what they believed evangelical Christians should value and how they should engage the world. These documents were not perfect, and they did not always reflect how evangelicals actually behaved. Nevertheless, they provide a record of what the movement publicly claimed to stand for.

What follows in the next few posts is a sampling of those statements from the 1970s through the early 2000s. [1] As you read them, I would encourage you to pay attention not only to what they affirm, but also to the tone, priorities, and moral instincts they reveal.

Once again, my argument is not that evangelicals always lived up to these ideals. Clearly, we did not. My argument is that many of the virtues these statements called us to pursue are now often ignored, minimized, or even treated with suspicion within the movement itself.

Before we discuss what evangelicalism has become, it is worth remembering what evangelicalism has said, over and over again, it aspires to be.

"I Didn't Move; You Did" (Part 1): An Ode To A Lost Evangelicalism

I spent 45 years as a proud conservative evangelical. It was my home. It wasn’t perfect, but nowhere else was either. Evangelicalism helped shape my love for Scripture, my devotion to Jesus, my commitment to conversion, prayer, mission, and discipleship. I owe much to people within it.

In the circles I grew up in, I was also taught the importance of engaging with the community and the world in a way that brought healing and hope.

• We sent missionaries near and far dedicated to telling others about the good news of the Gospel, often accompanied by acts of service to show that we cared about the whole person, not just their souls. 
• We promoted foster care, adoption, and crisis pregnancy centers as a proactive way to build a culture of life. 
• Evangelical disaster relief organizations did incredible work in meeting practical needs in areas devastated by natural disasters.
• Personally, my experience in the local churches in my life - Sunday School, youth group, services, revival meetings, potlucks, small groups, community outreach - gave me many wonderful memories and formed me in ways that I still cherish. [1]

The evangelical neighbor who quietly loves Jesus, serves the poor, cares for refugees, tells the truth, honors his marriage vows, and treats political opponents with dignity is not the source of my disillusionment. In many ways, they are evidence that the best of evangelicalism still shows sparks of life.

And yet, here I am, feeling the need to no longer be associated with evangelicalism because of the terrible toll the Trumpification of conservative evangelicalism has taken on its witness, reputation, and impact. 

I’m not a grumpy curmudgeon, pummeled by evangelicalism, who now just wants an excuse to throw shade. No, conservative evangelicalism was the Christian ecosystem into which I was born, and for most of my life, it felt like home.

I helped build it. I voted party line most of my life. I participated in the ecosystem. This is not a story about “those people.” It is a story about me and “my people.”

Speaking of “my people,” this series is not primarily aimed at the sincere evangelical Christian who voted for Donald Trump while wrestling with competing concerns and difficult choices. I know many such people. Some are dear friends. Some remain among the most faithful followers of Jesus I know.

Many Christians concluded that one set of policies represented a lesser evil than another. Whether I agree with that conclusion is not the point. Reasonable people can disagree about political strategy, candidates, and public policy.

My concern is different.

What Kind Of Person Am I Becoming? A Lesson From The Early Church

I've been thinking about recently is how often our modern assumptions about power are the exact opposite of the assumptions of the earliest Christians.

If you read early Christian writings, you will see that for the first few centuries Christians had almost no political influence, no cultural dominance, no armies, and often no legal protections. Still, they were inordinately confident that they would eventually win.

Why? Not because they expected to conquer Rome with a sword (they were forbidden); not because they expected God to destroy their enemies (Jesus wasn't about that); not because they thought they would seize the levers of power (the Sanhedrin had showed the danger in that). 

They believed they would win because they thought love was ultimately more powerful than violence, truth more powerful than propaganda, and self-sacrifice more powerful than coercion.

That sounds naïve to our modern ears. Yet somehow this tiny, marginalized movement exploded across the Roman Empire and then the world. It has outlasted emperors, persecutions, and entire political systems for 2,000 years.

How is this possible? Well, if you read people like Ignatius of Antioch, Justin Martyr, or Athanasius of Alexandria, you will hear them often talk as though the cross isn't merely how Jesus saves people. It's how reality itself works. 

The power of cruciform love is the deepest truth of the universe. It's the fulcrum which moves the cosmos itself.

If they're right, then the question isn't "How do I defeat those who claim to be my enemies?" The question is, "What kind of person am I becoming while I engage them? Will I look like the Empire or the Kingdom? Will I look like Caesar or Jesus?" 

After all, the means by which we engage enemies determines who we are in the end. If we are going to defeat those who seek to oppose Jesus and his ways, it needs to be with the same means Jesus used: the power of a cruciform, self-giving, love that points toward the Jesus in whose footsteps we follow. 

For a while, the church followed Jesus - imperfectly, to be sure, but consistently. Unfortunately, they lost its way when the siren call of Empire broke down their resistance. 

In their book From Revelation For The Rest Of Us: A Prophetic Call To Follow Jesus As A Dissident Disciple,  Scott McNight and Cody Matchett offer a sobering explanation.

“It took three centuries for Babylon—the way of Rome—to take over the church, and in some important ways it destroyed the church...The fallout from this has been so immense we need to slow down a bit to examine it more closely.

When Constantine became emperor of Rome and part of the church, the empire began to wind the church into a tight thread, binding it closely to itself. Church and empire, empire and church, closely knit to the point that the difference was often unnoticeable.This interwinding today is often called 'Constantinianism,' but more accurately it should be called 'Christendom'—that is, the process whereby Christianity became an institutional political power that sought power in Europe, North Africa, and (western) Asia. 

Constantine used his government powers to establish churches, demolish pagan temples, restore exiled Christians to their homes and jobs, 'unify' the theology of the church, and banish or silence threatening voices.Constantine unquestionably operated at times with a charitable tolerance, but the dirty deed had been done: the state became the power of the church. 

States do what states do, and they do this through war and violence. An expert on Roman history, Ramsay Macmullen, states it this way, 'The empire had never had on the throne a man given to such bloodthirsty violence as Constantine.' Though he was a supposedly Christian emperor, he was known for violence and was a man with a sword in his fist, not the word of God...

With Theodosius I the empire completes its 'Christianization' and becomes Christendom. A more forceful way of saying this is that when the church ties itself to political powers, as it did from Constantine to Theodosius I, it becomes Babylon. 

Christendom was the most tragic mistake in the history of the church. Aligning with Babylon turned the church into an agent of empire; put differently, the church surrendered its calling to the powers of empire.

Eusebius of Caesarea (c. 260–340) knew Constantine personally, saw some of the events of this time firsthand, and later wrote up a fawning account called The Life of Constantine, giving him titles like 'God- beloved' and 'Thrice blessed…' 

Perhaps the most widely known (and tragic) story about Constantine is his claim to have a vision of the cross before a famous battle, the one that cemented his position as the sole ruler of the empire. The vision was written in the sky: 'By this [the cross] conquer' following which he had a vision from Christ himself. And here is the tragedy of tragedies: the cross became the symbol for his military might, his palace, and his churches. 

Constantine became 'their redeemer, saviour and benefactor' even though in truth he was a brutal warmongering emperor whose goal was dominance and whose method was power through intimidation and violence… the man with a cross for a banner was a bloodthirsty man who defaced the way of the Lamb as he ruled in the way of the dragon. 

Violence, empire, and power would forever mark the churches that bound themselves to the state.The relationship of churches to the state can often be a first indicator or warning sign of Babylon’s presence inside the church.”

There is much to learn from this, lest we are condemned to repeat a history that moved the church so tragically far from the way of Jesus. When we reject the power of cruciform love as the greatest and best means of bringing healing, hope, restoration, peace, justice, mercy, and love, we have abandoned the way of Jesus and embraced the faux hope of Constantine, the violent pax Romana brought about by the sword that is not peace, and will never be able to put down the sword. 

We don't talk about Christendom much anymore; "Christian Nationalism" sounds much more civilized.

Yet the temptations, the compromise, and the allure of power will still mark the churches that bind themselves to the state. 

May God save His church from this path, so that we may be ambassadors of the enduring hope of cruciform love, and thus be spared the fate that awaits those who trust in empires. 

The Therapy Sessions #10: "Do Not Resuscitate"

If you have been following this series, you know that, instead of going through a journey of grief using journaling like I did after my dad died, I am navigating  the valley of childhood abuse by putting my thoughts into songs. 

Specifically, I am writing lyrics and (as I am not a songwriter) Suno is helping me match it to lyrics. 

 As I mentioned in the first post in The Therapy Sessions series, it's hard to describe what it's like to be blindsided by memories of the legacy of childhood trauma while in my 50's. I have not added details in this series, nor do intend to.  

My second post/song noted that for the next several songs, it's worth noting that the ages of 8, 9 and 10 were the epicenter of trauma. I have been learning the past few just how wildly impactful our childhood is.

My third song looked at how a child can form views of themselves based on trauma and not reality. This song was a loving song to remind Little Me of who I really was.

The fourth song had more to do with navigating that legacy as a man in my 50's. It's been a wild ride, y'all, but I'm getting onto solid ground.

The fifth song was meant to capture a child-like me asking God some sincere questions about why God allows life to unfold the way it does.This song is quiet, contemplative, hopefully capturing some hopeful sorrow.

The sixth song was not quiet. Part of trauma recovery is being honest about anger and the weight of all that happened, and, well, sometimes the day in front of us gets overwhelming. This song let me vent.

The seventh song was a reminder that it was not my fault, though I have carried that weight for decades, and lived out that legacy by defaulting to carrying the blame for things that go wrong. 

The 8th song, "I Won't Be That Kind Of Man", was about my determination not to pass on the legacy of trauma I endured.

The 9th song is called "I Won't Be That Kind of Man." We can choose what to do with legacies: pass them on, or change them. I'm doing a bit of both. 

This song is a recent one. I have been through some dark times of the soul where life felt like more than I could handle. When I am in that space, there can be moments when I think about death - and yearn for it. That doesn't mean that I wanted to end my life; it just meant there was a stark moment when I realized I longed for my eternal rest. 

In my journey - and perhaps in yours? -  there are times I am intensely in love with this life. I have so many wonderful family and friends around me, and I have had so many blessings. Then there are the days that overwhelm with the legacies of the sinful brokenness of the world. Both are true. Hopefully, this song captures both.

"Do Not Resuscitate"


The mirror says I’m older than my years 

Every little burden leaves a mark

“God won’t give more than you can handle”

Are just words while I cry in the dark

My thoughts all now feel disconnected

Like sparks that go out as they rise

I ain’t looking for peace anymore now

Just anything to dry out my eyes


[Chorus]

Now I lay me down to sleep

And Jesus sits with me while I weep

And if I die before I wake

Do not resuscitate



[Verse 2]

I know there’s life past the curtain

Every wound finally understood

Relief from the grief will be certain

And broken things heal like they should

And I believe scarred hands will hold me

No shame, just hope to amaze 

So if God calls me home before morning

Don’t drag me back from glorious days


[Chorus]


I don’t hate life

I’m just tired

Tired of heartbreak and tears

Tired of carrying everybody’s pain

While mine just languishes here

Still…

There’s a table for me in the kingdom

And I hear my chair scraping the floor

Some nights I ache to stay present

Some nights I ache for eternity more



Now I lay me down to sleep

And Jesus sits with me while I weep

And if I die before I wake

All that’s sad God will finally unmake

So please….

Do not resuscitate

The Therapy Sessions #9: "The Sons Of The Fall"

As I mentioned in the first post in The Therapy Sessions series, it's hard to describe what it's like to be blindsided by memories of the legacy of childhood trauma while in my 50's.

My second post/song noted that for the next several songs, it's worth noting that the ages of 8, 9 and 10 were the epicenter of trauma.  

My third song looked at how a child can form views of themselves based on trauma and not reality. This song was a loving song to remind Little Me of who I really was.

The fourth song had more to do with navigating that legacy as a man in my 50's. It's been a wild ride, y'all, but I'm getting onto solid ground.

The fifth song was meant to capture a child-like me asking God some sincere questions about why God allows life to unfold the way it does.This song is quiet, contemplative, hopefully capturing some hopeful sorrow.

The sixth song was not quiet.  Part of trauma recovery is being honest about anger and the weight of all that happened, and, well, sometimes the day in front of us gets overwhelming. This song let me vent.

The seventh song was a reminder that it was not my fault, though I have carried that weight for decades, and lived out that legacy by defaulting to carrying the blame for things that go wrong. 

The 8th song, "I Won't Be That Kind Of Man", was about my determination not to pass on the legacy of trauma I endured.

Today's song looks at how hard it is to live in the present sometimes. There is a danger of getting too immersed in the past, as well as being overly discouraged about healing in the future. I hope it's both honest and hopeful.

If your  life experience looks, in some fashion, similar to mine, my heart breaks for you.  If you care to read what I write or listen to the songs I post, may they remind you that you are not alone; that our history is not our destiny; and - to quote Samwise Gangee -  "There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for." 

Version #1: If you like southern rock/metal

Version #2: If you like hip-hop/rap

The Sons Of The Fall

[Chorus] I get too immersed

In the past I rehearse,

But today, I’m concerned

That the future is worse

When I think of tomorrow

I’m undone by sorrow

It’s something I have to give up

The trouble today is enough.

The past has the years

That were filled with the sin

And the memories that sear

Bring the grief back again.

In the past, I recall

All the times, for too long

That the sons of the fall

Did me terrible wrong

[Chorus] 

Today I went back

To things that brought pain

And the people who thought

That my loss was their gain.

Today, I regressed

The legacy was not done,

And those who confessed

Were not honest enough.

[Chorus]

Tomorrow, I fear

it’s too little, too late

I won’t dry up the tears

And my past is my fate.

Tomorrow, I wonder

If true healing awaits

Or will I blindly just lumber

And carry the same old weight.

[Chorus] 

And I stand in between

What I dread and have known

With a heart full of ash

And a soul like a stone

What was and what is, 

Feel like such an abyss

And the cost to be new

Must pay the devil his due.

But I heard there’s a way to cover the cost

If it’s paid blood red, on a cross

[Chorus]

 I get too immersed

In the past I rehearse,

But today, I’m not sure

That the future is worse

Today’s trouble is real

But I can’t let it steal

What the pain would conceal

That God takes it, 

and breaks it, 

and heals.

UP NEXT:  #10 "Do Not Resuscitate"

The Therapy Sessions #8: I Won't Be That Kind Of Man

As I mentioned in the first post in The Therapy Sessions series, it's hard to describe what it's like to be blindsided by memories of the legacy of childhood trauma while in my 50's.

My second post/song noted that for the next several songs, it's worth noting that the ages of 8, 9 and 10 were the epicenter of trauma.  

My third song looked at how a child can form views of themselves based on trauma and not reality. This song was a loving song to remind Little Me of who I really was.

The fourth song had more to do with navigating that legacy as a man in my 50's. It's been a wild ride, y'all, but I'm getting onto solid ground.

The fifth song was meant to capture a child-like me asking God some sincere questions about why God allows life to unfold the way it does.This song is quiet, contemplative, hopefully capturing some hopeful sorrow.

The sixth song was not quiet.  Part of trauma recovery is being honest about anger and the weight of all that happened, and, well, sometimes the day in front of us gets overwhelming. This song let me vent.

The seventh song was a reminder that it was not my fault, though I have carried that weight for decades, and lived out that legacy by defaulting to carrying the blame for things that go wrong. 

Today's song is about how I have not passed on the legacy of trauma I endured. Perhaps the silver lining in the trauma cloud is that I have stopped a cycle of abuse.

If your  life experience looks, in some fashion, similar to mine, my heart breaks for you.  If you care to read what I write or listen to the songs I post, may they remind you that you are not alone; that our history is not our destiny; and - to quote Samwise Gangee -  "There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for." 

"I Won't Be That Kind Of Man"

https://suno.com/s/NeL22GOKKMFcX7eV

I’ve been digging through a past that owes me answers,

What sinful men did to me raises some questions.

They preached Jesus but passed on their damage,

Took me down a path that led to therapy sessions.

Chaos in my chest, white noise in my head

It’s just what happens when innocence is dead

When your safety doesn’t last, you figure out fast—

The devil doesn’t need horns, just a holy mask.

[Chorus]

I won’t be that kind of man

No, I won’t be that kind of man

Give a bad man power, and the little ones pay.

I won’t be that kind of—

I won’t be that kind of man

Let’s uncover all the things that I used as armor,

Fawning, freezing, running from the trauma.

Trying to make safe every time, every place

Learning how to read every look on your face

Hypocrites with Bibles, conveyors of violence

Forced on me these tools of survival,

And I’m haunted by ghosts that continuously lurk

And learning what it takes to make life work

[Chorus]

I’m naming the damage, not carrying the blame.

I don’t carry their darkness or shoulder their shame.

If pain is a language, I’m learning new words,

I won’t translate abuse into someone else’s curse.

[Chorus]

I am not that kind of man

I am not that kind of man

What they broke, I’m breaking free

I am not that kind of—

I am not that kind of man

I will never be

That kind of man.

Following Jesus In Digital Spaces #2 : Choosing Your Arguments

 Like so many people, I wrestle with how to use social media well. I am certain I am not the only one. It can be a wonderful and terrible tool, which is true of pretty much anything people create. 

This is part of a series of videos (and a transcript) from a friend at church (he's also been a fellow elder for years). Tom Gordon taught history at Northwestern Michigan College for 30 years. He not only knows a lot about history, he has learned what it's like to navigate conversations on college campuses (and at church) when strong opinions and emotions enter the room. I have found his insight to be challenging, thoughtful, and very helpful to my spiritual and relational formation before, and it's about to happen again.

You can see the first episode here.  

Episode 2 — You Don’t Have to Attend Every Argument

One of the quiet pressures of social media  is the feeling that we’re supposed to respond to everything.Every headline. Every opinion. Every post that feels wrong or upsetting.

But here’s something freeing: Just because an argument is happening online doesn’t mean you’re required to join it. Most of us have tried. We jump into a thread hoping to bring clarity…

 and a few minutes later, we feel tired, tense, or disconnected. Not more loving. Just depleted.

What I notice about Jesus Christ  is that He didn’t chase every misunderstanding. He didn’t answer every accusation. Sometimes He spoke. Sometimes He walked away. Sometimes He stayed silent. Not because He didn’t care — but because He knew who He was and what He was called to carry.

That’s discipleship. Learning what is yours to engage… and what isn’t. So here’s a simple practice for this week:

When you feel pulled into an online argument, pause and ask: Is this mine to carry? If not…you’re allowed to scroll past. You’re allowed to breathe. You’re allowed to save your emotional energy for the people actually in your life.

Sometimes faithfulness looks like speaking. And sometimes it looks like restraint. This series isn’t about disengaging from the world. It’s about staying rooted in Christ while living in it. 

No perfection required. Just wisdom.

Grace and peace, friends.

Learning To Jump Again: The Songs ("Oh Death, Oh Life")

Some of you have read my self-published book Learning To Jump Again, which started as a personal journal of grief after my father died. I eventually made it public in hopes that it could help others as they grieve the loss of a loved one. 

Within that book were some poems, for better or worse.When my friend Avery introduced me to the AI music-making website Suno, those poems definitely changed for the better.

As I have revisited those years of deep mourning, I have found some thoughts bubbling to the service that I think have been simmering there for a long time. Since poetry was a meaningful expression for me then, I took that path again. And since I was enjoying trying to find a soundtrack to go with it....well, here we are :)

So, here is the seventh song, with lyrics first and a link to the song second (the first song is here; the second one is here, the third one here, the fourth one here, the fifth one here. and the sixth one here.)  

"Oh Death, Oh Life"

https://suno.com/s/K0gxwsiSDDOdtIKa

Oh life, the strife 

keeps coming to our door.

The challenges and hardship, 

I don’t need them any more.

The body blows of grief and pain

They take my breath, then come again

Oh life, the strife, 

Keeps coming to our door.

 Oh death, the breadth

Of what you repossess,

You keep on taking from us

And leave us with what’s left,

Of friends we loved, and family

You just can’t seem to let things be,

Oh death, the breadth

Of what you take from us. 

[Chorus] Oh life, oh death

You both take our breath

You just won’t stop,

Day after day,

And I, for one, 

Would like to say

Oh life, oh death,

Please give us back our breath.

 Oh life, the good

That must be understood

As sunshine after rain,

Forgiveness after pain

Joy after the heartache

And love for its own sake

Oh life, there’s good,

That must be understood

 Oh death, you think you won

But you moved us to the Son

Away from all that brought us pain

Into an age of so much gain

With friends we loved, and family

And a God who won’t let things be

Until everything is new

And reconciled, and true

Oh death, you think you won

But you moved us to the Son.

[chorus] Oh life, oh death

You both take our breath

With moments so amazing

They direct where we are gazing

From the strife and all we’ve lost

To what happened on the Cross 

Jesus restoring all our loss.

Oh life, oh death,

in Heaven’s time, 

and in Heaven’s way,

Please, take our breath away.

Following Jesus in Digital Spaces #1: Who Are You Becoming?

Like so many people, I wrestle with how to use social media well. I am certain I am not the only one. It can be a wonderful and terrible tool, which is true of pretty much anything people create. 

I am going to start posting videos and text from a friend at church (he's also been a fellow elder for years). Tom Gordon taught history at Northwestern Michigan College for 30 years. He not only knows a lot about history, he has learned what it's like to navigate conversations on college campuses (and at church) when strong opinions and emotions enter the room. I have found his insight to be challenging, thoughtful, and very helpful to my spiritual and relational formation before, and it's about to happen again.

And God knows, I need it. 

Here is Part One on YouTube. https://youtube.com/shorts/z7mdczik604?si=0MVHRxG0cBOYmeS3. 

Hey friends — Tom here. Quick thought today.

Most of us don’t wake up in the morning thinking, “I’d like to become a reactive, anxious, easily offended person.” But here’s the quiet truth:

Every time we scroll, post, argue, or react online, we’re practicing becoming someone. Social media doesn’t just show what we believe  - it trains our nervous system. When we’re emotionally stirred up - angry, afraid, or overwhelmed - our brains shift into defense mode. We get faster. Sharper. More certain.

Not usually wiser. Not usually kinder. And most of us know that moment.

You read a post. Your chest tightens. Your fingers start typing. Later you think, “That didn’t feel like the person I want to be.” That’s not a failure of faith. That’s a nervous system doing what nervous systems do.

And Jesus keeps asking a different question than the internet does. Not: “Are you right?” But: “Who are you becoming?” That’s discipleship. We’re being formed all the time — whether we notice it or not. Our habits shape our hearts. Our attention shapes our loves.

So here’s a simple practice for this week: Before you post. Before you reply. Before you hit send. Pause for three seconds and ask: Is this helping me become more like Jesus - or just more reactive?

Sometimes the most faithful thing you can do online is slow down. Sometimes it’s curiosity. Sometimes it’s silence. And sometimes it’s choosing relationship over being right.

This series is about learning how to follow Jesus in digital spaces with wisdom, gentleness, and courage.

No perfection required. Just presence.

Grace and peace, friends.

The Therapy Sessions #7: "You Were Never To Blame"

As I mentioned in the first post in The Therapy Sessions series, it's hard to describe what it's like to be blindsided by memories of the legacy of childhood trauma while in my 50's. I've got Jesus, good therapists, a loving family and a supportive church community, but... it's a lot.  

My second post/song noted that for the next several songs, it's worth noting that the ages of 8, 9 and 10 were the epicenter of trauma.  On the other end of the spectrum,I've learned it's not unusual for men my age to remember this kind of stuff in their 50s. 

My third song looked at how a child can form views of themselves based on trauma and not reality. This song was a loving song to remind Little Me of who I really was.

The fourth song had more to do with navigating that legacy as a man in my 50's. It's been a wild ride, y'all, but I'm getting onto solid ground.

The fifth song was meant to capture a child-like me asking God some sincere questions about why God allows life to unfold the way it does.This song is quiet, contemplative, hopefully capturing some hopeful sorrow.

The sixth song was not quiet.  Part of trauma recovery is being honest about anger and the weight of all that happened, and, well, sometimes the day in front of us gets overwhelming. This song let me vent.

Today's song is another perspective from adult me as I look back on Little Me and speak truth to push out the lies.

Perhaps your life experience looks, in some fashion, similar to mine. If so, I'm sorry. That's really hard. If you care to read what I write or listen to the songs I post, may they remind you that you are not alone; that our history is not our destiny; and - to quote Samwise Gangee -  "There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for."  

"You Were Never To Blame"

https://suno.com/s/grhd2tRjpJwIhWOA

How does a boy, only nine, maybe ten,

Targeted by others who would sin

Prepare for the people, who would circle again?

With no means to defend

For a boy who was nine, maybe ten.

How does a boy, only nine, maybe ten,

Ashamed and confused by the hands of grown men,

Try to make sure it won’t happen again?

With no means to defend

For a boy who was nine, maybe ten.

Chorus

9 year old boy, you were never to blame,

They branded your soul with their own shame.

You made it through by forgetting the pain—

And their own darkness, told you your name.

How does a boy, only nine, maybe ten,

Already collapsing before it begins,

Show anyone else what kept happening then?

How does a boy, only nine, maybe ten, 

Know he wasn’t the problem—the problem was them

And one day there’ll be light, but it’s dark until then…

Chorus

You carried the silence as long as you could,

Believing that darkness was stronger than good.

But truth has a voice that burns through the shame—

It calls to the boy, and it speaks your true name.

Chorus

None of their darkness, can tell you…

Your name is…

Beautiful Boy.

The Therapy Sessions #6: "I Just Want This Day To End"

As I mentioned in the first post in The Therapy Sessions series, it's hard to describe what it's like to be blindsided by memories of the legacy of childhood trauma while in my 50's. I've got Jesus, good therapists, a loving family and a supportive church community, but... it's a lot.  

My second post/song noted that for the next several songs, it's worth noting that the ages of 8,  9 and 10 were the epicenter of trauma. These were not exclusive years, but they will show up more than once. On the other end of the spectrum, watch out for songs that reference my 50s. I've learned it's not unusual for men my age to remember this kind of stuff in their 50s - and it's not unusual for men to remember this kind of stuff.

My third song looked at how a child can form views of themselves based on trauma and not reality. This song was a loving song to remind Little Me of who I really was.

The fourth song had more to do with navigating that legacy as a man in my 50's. It's been a wild ride, y'all, but I'm getting onto solid ground.

The fifth song was meant to capture a child-like me asking God some sincere questions about why God allows life to unfold the way it does. If you listen to all the songs, you'll see I'm not trying to stick with one style. I'm getting Suno to help me find the mood that matches what I'm feeling. This song is quiet, contemplative, hopefully capturing some hopeful sorrow.

This one is not. Part of trauma recovery is being honest about anger and the weight of all that happened, and, well, sometimes the day in front of us gets overwhelming. This song lets me vent.

Perhaps your life experience looks, in some fashion, similar to mine. If so, I'm sorry. That's really hard. If you care to read what I write or listen to the songs I post, may they remind you that you are not alone; that our history is not our destiny; and - to quote Samwise Gangee -  "There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for."  

"I Just Want This Day To End"

https://suno.com/s/Pk2gQ7ZbFz07uhsC

Today was not fine because 

Peace was not mine 

And I was ready, so soon

To try the next day, 

since at least around noon 

 

Today was not right because 

I thought I saw the light 

But I was ready, once again 

To try the next day instead, 

Perhaps as early as ten 

 

[Chorus] I just want this day to end, 

I find I’m too tired to pretend

 But broken things are trying to mend, 

So tomorrow, maybe, I’ll try again. 

 

Today was not good, because

 I’ve been in a mood 

Because trauma’s no fun 

And I wanted a new day 

Sometime around one. 

 

Today was so hard, because 

I let down my guard

 And tried to remember

A boy, so tender, and used. 

I just want this day to end,

 I find I’m too tired to pretend

 But broken things are trying to mend, 

So tomorrow, I suppose, 

I’ll try again. 

 

Today was so dark, 

As I grieve for the mark 

On my heart, and my soul, 

For the terrible toll. 

And now this day’s too long 

For all of my sorrow 

Yet again 

 

 I just want this day to end, 

And I just need it quiet inside my head

But this time the darkness will act as a friend,  

And tomorrow, I suppose, I’ll try again.

I’ll try again.

 

And tomorrow, I think that, I’ll try again.  

 And tomorrow, I need to try life again

UP NEXT: "You Were Never To Blame"

The Therapy Sessions #5: "Dear Jesus, I've Got Questions"

As I mentioned in the first post in The Therapy Sessions series, it's hard to describe what it's like to be blindsided by memories of the legacy of childhood trauma while in my 50's. I've got Jesus, good therapists, a loving family and a supportive church community, but... it's a lot.   

My second post/song noted that for the next several songs, it's worth noting that the ages of 8,  9 and 10 were the epicenter of trauma. These were not exclusive years, but they will show up more than once. On the other end of the spectrum, watch out for songs that reference my 50s.  I've learned it's not unusual for men my age to remember this kind of stuff in their 50s - and it's not unusual for men to remember this kind of stuff.

My third song looked at how a child can form views of themselves based on trauma and not reality. This song was a loving song to remind Little Me of who I really was.

The fourth song had more to do with navigating that legacy as a man in my 50's. It's been a wild ride, y'all, but I'm getting onto solid ground.

This one needed to be quiet and gentle. If you listen to all the songs, you'll see I'm not trying to stick with one style. I'm getting Suno to help me find the mood that matches what I'm feeling. The next one is going to be noisy; this one is not.

Perhaps your life experience looks, in some fashion, similar to mine. If so, I'm sorry. That's really hard. If you care to listen to the songs I post, may they remind you that you are not alone; that our history is not our destiny; and, to quote Samwise Gangee, "There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for."  

"Dear Jesus, I've Got Questions"

https://suno.com/s/8wOQshlcDA7BjX8T

Dear Jesus, I’ve got questions,

Some thoughts, and a few suggestions

And there might be a confession,

But we’ll see

I wonder why so much is bad

In a world where so much makes me glad?

And in the memories that I have

Why did so many have to be so sad?

I wonder why you didn’t end

The hypocrisy and the pretend

More quickly, with more time to send

Someone to help me mend

And just for me, for Little Me

Looking down on us, did you also see

The many things I tried to flee?

So why did you just let them be?

My thoughts are jumbled, to be clear

But I think I see a pattern here:

Confusion, questions, pain and fear.

I see at least that through my tears.

My suggestions won’t surprise you, Lord

I’ll bet you’ve heard these ones before

What if you found a way to store

My past behind a massive door

Until I was safe to explore

What happened.

What if you found a way to mend

The broken, and to send

All sins so far around the bend

We would not deal with them again.

What if you found a way to show

That when we harvest what others sow

You’re right here with us, down below

You’re right here with us, in our woe.

What if you found a way to heal

With love, and hope, and make unreal

The legacy of wounds that steals

So that in the end, you’d finally deal

with all that is so sad.

What if you finally rebuild

all of creation, reconciled,

Free of the curse; no one defiled

God’s all in all, and so this child

Can rest.

I’ll lay my questions down

I’ll lay my worries down

If You’re healing all things in the end

If Your love gets the final word

I will rest now.

I will rest now.

The Therapy Sessions#4: "When I Hit 58"

 As I mentioned in the first post in The Therapy Sessions series, it's hard to describe what it's like to be blindsided by memories of the legacy of childhood trauma while in my 50's.  

My second post/song noted that for the next several songs, it's worth noting that the ages of 8,  9 and 10 were the epicenter of trauma. These were not exclusive years, but they will show up more than once. On the other end of the spectrum, watch out for songs that reference my 50s.

My third song looked at how a child can form views of themselves based on trauma and not reality. This song was a loving song to remind Little Me of who I really was. 

Perhaps your life experience looks, in some fashion, similar to mine. If so, I'm sorry. That's really hard. If you care to listen to the songs I post, may they remind you that you are not alone; that our history is not our destiny; and, to quote Samwise Gangee, "There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for." 

"When I Hit 58" 

(https://suno.com/s/FOCDrAn7J6c4Ffjq)

I used 54 as a time to keep score

Of the therapy sessions I used to explore

What I had kept hidden behind all those doors

But I started to open them, at 54.

I did not expect 55 to arrive

By clearing the shelves I had stocked full of lies

About how to be manly and tough and alive

So I started restocking, at 55.

Throw into the mix, now that I’m 56

The sin-stained ruins I’m starting to fix

The trauma-brain reflex I’m trying to kick

And it’s starting to click, now that I’m 56.

Fifty-four showed the cracks,

Fifty-five brought me back,

Fifty-six let me breathe

With new habits I need

And the years still ahead

Aren’t a thing that I dread

’Cause Jesus once said

He gives life to the dead.

I think it’s a given, when I’m 57,

the mix of my life will still have too much leaven

but I’ll get with more clarity glimpses of heaven

but still be uneven, when I’m 57.

It would be great, when I hit 58

If congruence and wholeness would flood through the gate

And forgiveness and mercy would never abate

And God would make clear that love conquers hate 

And it’s never too late

though long was the wait

for a boy who was eight

That would be great, when I hit 58.

Up next: "Dear Jesus, I've Got Questions"

The Therapy Sessions #3: "Beautiful Boy"

As I mentioned in the first post in The Therapy Sessions series, it's hard to describe what it's like to be in my 50s and be blindsided by unveiled memories of the devastating legacy of childhood trauma. It raises so many emotions, and questions, and instability. 

My second post/song noted that for the sake of the narrative that will show up in a few songs,  the ages of 8,  9 and 10 were the epicenter of trauma. These were not exclusive years, but they will show up more than once. 

These songs are a journal of pain, healing, despair, hope, anger, mercy..... I tried to capture real moments, all of which matter in the journey toward healing.

Perhaps your life experience looks, in some fashion, similar to mine. If so, I'm sorry. That's really hard. If you care to listen to the songs I post, may they remind you that you are not alone; that our history is not our destiny; and, to quote Samwise Gangee, "There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for." 

This song is one of my favorites. First, the musical genre is in my bones. Second, I wrote the lyrics in an evening in which I felt a desperate need to validate the imago dei in me, the idea that I had value, worth and dignity given by God that cannot be taken by anyone.

BEAUTIFUL BOY

https://suno.com/s/dggGDnBjCzxFCPiQ

Beautiful boy,

You were young, you were sweet, you were fun.

Those who mocked you and hurt you

Taught you lies you believed one by one.

Beautiful boy,

You were true, you were good, you were blue.

Those who used you and bruised you

Told a story that just wasn’t true

Beautiful boy,

You were kind, you were gentle, you shined.

It’s not your fault that you forgot

Given the troublesome times.

Beautiful boy,

You made it, and you’ll be a man,

With a heart being mended

By the touch of His hand.

What was broken will heal,

What was lost He’ll reveal,

Through His mercy and love,

Beautiful boy.

Beautiful boy, you were lost,

But He carried the cross

To find you,

And love you back to life—

Beautiful boy.