toddcast

A few years ago I traded my gas and electric lawn equipment for battery-powered tools. I loved them, until the batteries wore out. No big deal, I thought. I bought a new battery and got back to work. But within a couple of weeks, it started dying on me. I'd be halfway through the yard and the blower would just quit. So I set the battery on the charger, swapped in the backup, and finished the job. The next weekend, I grabbed the new battery, fully charged and ready to go. A few minutes in, the blower died again. I was ready to throw that battery in the trash. Then a thought stopped me: What if it isn't the battery? What if it's the charger? It was the charger. The battery was fine. It had never been getting a charge in the first place. No charge, no power. It's that simple. I think I'm a lot like that battery. I run down fast. I fall short of the person I want to be. The good things I want to do start to feel like heavy lifting. And too often I find myself aski...

I'm not the person I want to be. I suppose all of us could say that. We have weaknesses. We have faults. We sin. In so many ways we have failed to be the person we committed to be when we said yes to Jesus. Acknowledging that can be deflating, if not depressing, but recently I have found some hope in my shortcomings. I am preaching through a short section in the apostle Paul's letter to a church he helped establish, the church in Philippi. In the middle of that letter he takes a break from teaching and gets personal, and oddly enough he reveals he has come to the same conclusion I have. He says it plainly — I have not arrived at my goal! If anyone could have said he had arrived, I would think it would be Paul. His resume is impressive, to say the least — church planter, apostle, author of more than half the New Testament books. Yet as accomplished as he was, he too can say, "I'm not who I want to be." I have come to the conclusion that it's okay not to...

This summer I had the chance to travel back to my hometown in Massachusetts to visit family. That's where I grew up, just north of Boston, and even though I've now called North Texas home for over 30 years, Massachusetts will always hold a special place in my heart. I lived there until I graduated high school, when I set off for higher education that carried me through several states before I finally landed here in Texoma. Growing up in New England, I had the classic accent to prove it — no "R" was safe from getting dropped at the end of a word. If you've ever heard President Kennedy speak, you've heard me. Pure Boston, through and through. But somewhere along the way that accent faded, and now when I visit home, my sisters tease me about picking up a Texas drawl. Funny how things change. Here's my point: over time, we're all shaped by our surroundings, for better or worse. In the case of my accent, there's no moral weight to it either way. But...

Lately, I’ve been feeling something I don’t always like to admit: discouragement. I suspect I’m not alone. We live in an anxious moment. The headlines are relentless. Division runs deep. And for those of us who hold to faith, there’s an added layer — watching the cultural ground shift beneath our feet, wondering if the things we believe and the values we cherish are simply fading away. I’ve been preaching through a dark chapter of ancient Israel’s history lately — a period marked by nineteen kings and nineteen failures. One after another, leaders who abandoned God and took their nation with them. Week after week, the story is the same. Corruption. Idolatry. Injustice. Spiritual collapse. And somewhere along the way, I started feeling it personally. Which brought me to Elijah. Elijah was a prophet during one of the darkest seasons of that era. The king was corrupt. Idolatry was the official state religion. God’s messengers were being hunted and executed. Justice had collapsed. He ran. H...

I’m starting a new study this week from a dark period in the history of Old Testament Israel. After the reigns of Saul, David, and Solomon — a season in which Israel experienced a good deal of success and influence — the nation does something tragic: it divides. What follows is a troubled and sobering chapter in Old Testament history, and it serves as a powerful warning for us today. When a workplace divides, decline is inevitable. When a sports team fractures from within, a drop in performance almost always follows. And when a church experiences unresolved conflict, it inevitably loses influence and compromises its witness to the world around it. Division is never just an internal matter — it always has real and lasting consequences. It makes sense then that Scripture says quite a bit about the value of unity. Unity matters deeply — and not just as a good idea. It is a direct command from God: “Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.” — E...

What a white water rafting trip taught me about God -  A few years ago my wife, two young daughters and I packed up and headed to Red River, New Mexico for a vacation. For a bit of adventure we decided to try something we had never done before — white water rafting. Before climbing into the raft, we were handed a stack of waivers to sign. You know the kind. The ones that acknowledge if you die it's all your fault. I reluctantly signed them, but I felt relief after we met our guide. He introduced himself before we pushed off, and before long I felt safe in spite of the risks clearly expressed in the waivers. And it wasn't because the river got safer or I had magically become stronger. It was something about him. He had four qualities that made all the difference. He was strong . One look at him and you knew — this man has been on this river a hundred times. If something goes wrong, he is getting us out. He was kind . He wasn't just running a transaction. He genuinely w...