What do you do when the bottom drops out? When life as you know it stops? There are moments when life gives way beneath your feet—plans unravel, diagnosis are given, loved ones are in crisis, jobs are lost.  Everything that you once thought was steady and secure, suddenly slides you off your axis.  As a pastor, it is a humbling privilege to be invited into some of these moments for members of our church. Within the past two weeks, I have conversed with several people who are experiencing “bottom drops out” moments of their lives. 

They’re really going through it. And, I know, that nearly all of us are also going through something right now; even if we do keep it pretty well hidden from most of the world.  The brokenness of this world makes itself known in our lives. We lose something or someone that was once so reliable.  Abruptly, we are thrown for a loop. We are tossed and turned, desperately grasping for something solid. It’s in those moments, when the bottom drops out, that we need to adapt. But how? "I lift up my eyes to the mountains—where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth." (Psalm 121:1-2) The promises of God found in scripture can sustain us.  They will.  Don’t get me wrong, it is not easy to trade our worry and fear in for peace and faith.  Doubt and despair still try to creep in. Being human is not for wimps! But there are so many words in where God’s quiet, steady promise speaks most clearly: You are not falling alone.
 
Scripture reminds us, “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble” (Psalm 46:1). Not a distant help. Not an occasional help. Ever-present. Even when everything else feels unstable, He remains unshaken. Think of Peter stepping out onto the water. The moment he focused on the wind and waves, he began to sink—but Jesus was already reaching out His hand. The same is true for you. The chaos may be real, the uncertainty heavy, but Christ is closer still. God doesn’t promise a life where the ground never trembles, or the bottom never falls out.  But He does promise that when it does, His grip holds firm. His grace is deeper than your lowest moment, and His faithfulness stretches farther than your worst fear.
 
“I waited patiently for the Lord; He inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God.” (Psalms 40:1-3)

A very noticeable thing happened a couple of weeks ago in worship.  Three people walked out of the church... Sunday morning, mid-service.
​Just got up and left.
They weren’t even sneaky about it.

Worship continued, but they weren’t there.
Actually… it was right in the middle of my sermon.
Can you believe that? The audacity! 
 
The exact details have faded slightly, but no doubt I was midsentence inspiring all the pew-sitters that morning. Nevertheless, they got right up and walked right out of the sanctuary.
No matter how much of a homiletical masterpiece I was delivering, they left. Departed. Gone. Hit the proverbial road.  And I loved it!
 
Still makes me smile every time I think about it.
Kudos ladies. I hope they do it again!
 
Here’s what I noticed…  At one point, in the middle of my rousing sermon I looked up and saw three moms, just outside the sanctuary, on the narthex floor. Backs toward me, engaged in conversation with each other. With each mom was an ankle-biter. Technically, I guess that means that six people walked out of the church, mid-service.  Even better!  I could not tell you who it was or how long they were out there. They may have been members. They could have been visitors here for the first time.  Honestly, I have no idea. But I do remember seeing them. I remember thinking, “How cool is that?!”  And I remember sending up a quick post-sermon prayer thanking God for their presence.
 
In all my years of pastoring, when kids are fussy or babies are crying in church, I hardly even notice. I wouldn’t call it oblivious; it sounds better to say that I’m in my preaching zone.  But even if I did. They are not a distraction. They are not a disruption. They certainly do not need to be removed.  They are a beautiful blessing, a welcome reminder of how important it is to be a church filled with people of all ages—young babies and seasoned veterans.  Of course, the mortified parents feel a bit differently; they are embarrassed and panic. They bombard their little ones with goldfish crackers and squeezy applesauce, anything to get them to sit still and keep them quiet!  Tired moms and dads faithfully doing the right thing even when it’s not so easy.  Flustered as they may have been, how reassuring then for those moms a couple weeks back to walk out into the narthex and immediately see that they were not alone.  Many of us have been here before—children fussy and bouncing with energy at church, in a movie theater, at a concert, in a restaurant.  It is likely that anytime kids “act up” in church their anxious  parents feel as if the eyes of everyone in the church are shooting daggers at them, silently rebuking them to keep their kids under control.  Not me.  Not here.  Not ever.  Hopefully not you either.  I’ll look at them, smile, and silently thank God they are here. 
 
It would be so much easier for parents of little kids to stay home. Less stressful. More relaxing. Stay in the jammies. Turn on Mickey Mouse. Enjoy another cup of coffee.  No fuss, no crying, no tantrums. It has been many years since our kids were that small, but I remember Calie telling me that she wasn’t sure she heard a single sermon for at least the first six years of our kids’ lives while in their toddler stages. (She may not listen to my sermons now either, but she can’t blame the kids anymore. 😊) 
 
Perhaps it would be easier for all of us to bail on worship.  But God is pleased when we gather—not because everything runs smoothly, not because every child sits quietly, and not because every parent feels put together… but because His people come. We come with noise and need, with distractions and fatigue, with crying babies and wandering minds—and still, our gracious God meets us there. He graces us. He restores us. He blesses us. The sound of little ones in the sanctuary is the sound of life, of our Christian faith being carried forward. Little ones in the pews remind us that our church—by the working of the Holy Spirit—is not fading but flourishing. Not every church is so fortunate. A quiet church is often a church without growth. This old proverb, of which there is no known author, is true: “If You Don't Hear Crying, the Church is Dying.”  I recall reading a similar quote, that said “The noise of children is the sound of the next generation worshiping.”
 
So dear friends, please join me in rejoicing over every holy interruption and embracing every holy cry. Celebrate the screams. Embrace the tantrums. Delight in the occasional distractions.
Smile and make silly faces at the little ankle-biters among us.  Encourage the parents, no matter how old their kids are.

Let’s welcome it. Let’s give thanks for it. 
For our God is indeed “giving the growth!”
 
Oh, one last thing… this does NOT give you all permission to get up and walk out of church mid-sermon this coming Sunday!
 
But Jesus said, “Let the children come to me. Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to those who are like these children.” (Matthew 19:14 NLT)

“Therefore we must have young people in the church, for the church must continue to exist.” (Martin Luther)

Happy (Day-After) Tax Day!  You know what they say? “There are only two certainties in life—taxes and death.”  How true that is, and fortunately neither one of those things need cause us great concern or worry.  In that vein, I’m recycling this devotional thought from several years ago.  Easter reminds us, we’ve got a guy for that! 😊
 
Hopefully, you got all your taxes taken care of for yesterday's deadline. No doubt you are now anxiously awaiting your bountiful refund check from our beloved national treasury.  We’ve all seen the H&R Block commercials suggesting that we can “get our billions back!”   Needless to say, I’m still looking for mine! For many people, tax season is stressful and burdensome. Not at all for me. During the months of January and February, I gathered up all my necessary documents and financial information so that I could send it off to my tax guy.  It is so nice to have someone else take care of it.  There are nuances of self-employment and clergy allowance that I don’t pretend to understand. Every year, laws and requirements change a bit. It is an immense relief to not have to worry about any of it. No headaches crunching numbers. No anxiety trying to reconcile the final amounts. No need for me to invest in the newest TurboTax software.  It is a wonderful, burdenless feeling to put the papers in the mail and then not have to fuss about it. No stress at all. My tax guy will work through the mess, comb over the details, and make sure all my files are in order.  He’ll make sure the government gets its due.  He’ll make sure I don’t land in jail or get flagged by the IRS.  To be sure, I do have to pay for the services of my tax guy. But it is worth it. It is a tolerable investment to have a capable, reliable guy take care of things that I can’t do myself.
 
Can you sense where I’m going with this?  Today, as we stand in the afterglow of Easter.  The energy and excitement of Easter Sunday may have dissipated a bit as we quickly had to get back into a normal work week routine. Our “He is risen indeed!” choruses have faded somewhat as we find ourselves in between Sundays.  Now we gear up for the home stretch of the school year, spring planting, and other outdoor activities. We start thinking about summer vacations, fishing trips, and full days at home with the kids or grandkids.  Yet we dare not so quickly or easily close the book on Easter; Easter has a lasting impact.  The joy and celebration, the good news and victory of Easter still rings loud in our worship and in our lives.  Like taxes, we are all forced to face the reality of death.  We’ve dealt with it personally and we see it constantly on the news.  Easter reminds us that death does not win, because we have “a guy” that takes care of it for us!
 
That’s the Easter message—because Jesus conquers death, so do we!  Sin, death, evil—it is so nice to have someone else take care of it. No need to worry.  No further work or effort needed from us.  We don’t even have to pay for His services.  Our guy, our Lord Jesus, makes sure all our spiritual affairs are in order—free of charge!  He has covered the bill Himself, written in His own blood. We no longer need to fret over what may happen to us; Jesus assures us that He is always with us.  He offers us a hope that can stare death in the eye and proclaim, “Oh death where is your sting!”  Thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. (1 Cor. 15:57)  Throughout our time upon this earth, we have “a guy” who takes care of us.  1 Peter 5:6-7 says, “Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you at the proper time, casting all your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you.”  Thank you, Jesus, for taking care of us. 
 
We stand secure knowing that the inevitable and guaranteed certainties of life are already dealt with.  They are handled. No need to worry. Nothing more to do on our part.

My tax guy has my taxes done.  

My death & sin Guy has the rest under control. 

Time to relax and enjoy the spring weather.  He is risen indeed!  Alleluia!
 
“A dead Christ I must do everything for; a living Christ does everything for me."  (Andrew Murray)

Blessed Easter week to you all. Christ is still risen!

Did you notice the grammatical nuance of what we say at Easter? Christ is risen! We use the present tense. Not “Christ has risen” or “Christ was risen.” We use the present tense because this is still our current reality. Christ is risen! Here. Now. In this very moment.

That might not seem like a big deal, just semantics and wordplay. But a comforting truth lies within. The events of that first Easter is not just a past event we remember, but a present reality we still live in now.  It isn't just a historic event to celebrate once a year; it is our ever-present reality. Because Jesus conquered the grave, He is not merely a distant, historical figure, but a living Savior who is actively present in the ordinary moments of your life right now. His Great Commission promise still reverberates today, "Lo I am with you always, even to the end of the ages."  Because He lives, our hope is not fragile and our joy is not temporary. Even, or especially, in uncertainty, Christ’s presence anchors us. He is still at work for us!

When fear, doubt, or grief settles into your day like heavy weather, the resurrection declares that love has outlasted hatred and life has outrun death. He is the “first fruits,” meaning His resurrection power is available to you today to overcome obstacles, calm fears, and wipe away tears.  Let the truth of the empty tomb shape your confidence. Let the enthusiastic cries that filled our church this past Sunday still be on your lips. The Risen Christ walks with you here and now—in the tension, in the questions, in the chaos and unrest, and in the quiet spaces. Jesus is near, personal, and constant. With you. Always.

Live today with the unwavering assurance that because He lives, you are never alone. He is your ever-present help and your living hope!