Faith That Holds in Shaky Times

Faith That Holds in Shaky Times

Life has a way of shaking us.

For some, it’s addiction that never seems to let go.

For others, it’s broken promises, betrayal, or the crushing weight of loss.

In moments like these, faith can feel more like a whisper than a roar.

But here’s the good news: God does not ask us to have perfect faith. He asks us to trust Him with what little faith we have — even when it feels shaky.

What the Bible Says About Faith

Hebrews 11 begins with this powerful reminder:

“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see… without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to Him must believe that He exists and that He rewards those who earnestly seek Him.”

And in Mark 9, a desperate father brings his suffering child to Jesus. He cries out words that feel so familiar to anyone who has struggled:

“I believe; help my unbelief.”

That’s the heart of real faith. Not having it all together. Not pretending to be strong. But admitting, “I’m weak, but I need You, Jesus.”

Faith with Scars

The heroes of faith in Hebrews 11 weren’t perfect people.

Abraham lied. Moses killed a man. David committed adultery.

Yet, they are remembered for one thing: they trusted God enough to keep moving forward. Faith doesn’t erase scars. But it gives us courage to walk into tomorrow with hope.

A Simple Step

If your life feels shaky right now, try this:

Take a piece of paper. Write one thing that feels impossible to trust God with. Pray: “Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.” Tear that paper up as a sign of releasing it into God’s hands.

It doesn’t fix everything in a moment. But it’s a start — a step toward faith.

Faith Grows in Community

No one heals in isolation. Faith gets stronger when we walk together. That’s why church, recovery groups, and safe friendships matter so much. Someone else can remind you of hope when you forget it yourself.

Final Word

Faith that holds in shaky times is not about never doubting. It’s about turning to Jesus with your doubts in hand.

If you are battling addiction, shame, or pain today, remember:

God doesn’t demand perfect faith. He honors honest faith. And He meets us right where we are.

So pray the most honest prayer there is:

“I believe; help my unbelief.”

That’s faith that holds.

Naming the Moment

We are living in days when what Scripture warned has come to pass: “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil” (Isaiah 5:20). Truth is called hate speech. Lies are paraded as compassion. Even murder is cheered when it fits the culture’s script. The question that presses on us is the same question the disciples asked Jesus: “Lord, increase our faith!”

The Prayer Compass – Orienting True North

True North – Christ Himself

“Lord Jesus, keep me aligned to You—not outcomes, not fears, not even my own dreams.”

North – Renewing Faith and Hope

Renew my trust in You each day. Restore hope where it has grown dim and strengthen my heart to endure.

(Romans 15:13)

East – Vision

Open doors for growth in my daily work, calling, and ministry. Guide my steps so they honor You.

(Proverbs 16:3)

South – Healing

Restore broken places in my life, my family, and my relationships. Bring renewal where there is weakness.

(Jeremiah 30:17)

West – Community

Anchor me in the people, neighbors, and culture around me. Let my life be a light that points others to You.

(Matthew 5:14,16)

Living the New Life by Compass in a Fractured WorldSermon – September 14, 2025

Sermon – September 14, 2025

Title: Living the New Life by Compass in a Fractured World
Texts: Ephesians 4:22–24; 2 Corinthians 5:17–20; John 15:5; Colossians 3:17

Opening Prayer

Lord Jesus,
Thank You for offering us a new name amid this week’s heartaches—Kirk’s loss, Evergreen’s terror, Memphis’ violence, and Vidor’s wounds. As we gather, be our compass in this fractured world. Strip away our old selves—our fears, our furies—and clothe us with the new. Align us with Your Vine so that we may bear fruit in places that feel barren. Amen.

Introduction – A Fractured World Needs a Compass

My heart is heavy. This week has fractured us again:

  • Charlie Kirk assassinated in Utah.
  • Evergreen High School torn by gunfire.
  • Memphis, Minneapolis, and Fort Wayne wracked by shootings.
  • And closer to home, Vidor shaken by a woman shot in her apartment, a police chase, and a car hijacking with a family inside.

These are more than headlines. They are mirrors. They expose the anger, fear, and indifference inside us. And they leave us in a liminal space — in between grief and hope.

In those spaces, we need more than maps of opinion, ideology, or rage. We need a compass. Not a device in our pocket — but Christ Himself, our true North.

1. The Quiet Question: Where Am I Going?

Ephesians 4:22–24 calls us to shed the old self and put on the new.

The old self is what fuels violence — vengeance in Utah, despair in Colorado, cycles of revenge in Memphis, desperation in Vidor. But the old self lives in me too. I’ve worn names like “failure” and “not enough,” especially after Joshua’s death.

A compass question cuts through the noise: Who am I becoming?

Youth Call-out (12–18): You hear names and labels every day — “popular,” “awkward,” “try-hard.” But your real compass isn’t popularity or reputation. It’s who Christ is shaping you to become.

2. A New Name, A New Compass

Revelation 2:17 promises: “To the one who overcomes I will give… a white stone with a new name written on it.”

God doesn’t just hand us directions — He renames us. Abram became Abraham. Jacob became Israel. Simon became Peter. I once thought “unworthy” was my name. But Christ renamed me.

A compass doesn’t just point you somewhere. It tells you who you are becoming.

Reflection: What old names still cling to you? How does Christ rename you?

3. The Call to Shed the Old Self

Paul says the old self must go. But that’s not one big decision — it’s a daily compass check.

Ask yourself:

  • Who am I becoming?
  • What pain am I avoiding that God wants to redeem?
  • What can I serve without applause?

This week I felt anger over Kirk’s death, fear for classrooms turned battlegrounds, judgment toward Vidor’s suspects. But renewal starts by taking those thoughts captive, by surrendering them daily.

Romans 5:3–5 reminds us: suffering produces endurance, endurance produces character, and character produces hope. That’s compass work.

4. Ambassadors with Authority

2 Corinthians 5:20 says: “We are Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making His appeal through us.”

Ambassadors don’t speak their own agenda. They represent their King. After Kirk’s assassination, we don’t answer with vengeance but reconciliation. After Evergreen, we don’t harden, we heal. In Memphis and Vidor, we stand with victims, break cycles of despair, and show mercy.

Authority without compass becomes arrogance. Authority with compass becomes mission.

Youth Call-out (12–18): Think about being the “rep” for your school at a competition. You don’t just speak for yourself — you represent everyone. That’s what being Christ’s ambassador means. People see Jesus in how you live.

5. Abiding: The Anchor in the In-Between

John 15:5 says: “I am the vine; you are the branches… apart from Me you can do nothing.”

Authority without abiding turns to arrogance. Abiding aligns our compass to true North. It’s what turns wounds into wisdom, chaos into fruit. For me, abiding has meant praying over Joshua’s memory, letting grief refine me instead of define me.

Practice: Take five minutes daily. Breathe in God’s grace, exhale fear or vengeance, and listen. Abiding is the only way to stay aligned.

Youth Call-out (12–18): You can’t run your phone on one charge all week. Same with your soul. Stay plugged into Jesus daily — prayer, Scripture, worship — and you’ll bear fruit that lasts.

Application – Living the Compass Life

So, what does this mean for us tomorrow?

  1. Shed the Old Self – Identify one “old name” (anger, fear, indifference) and surrender it.
  2. Live as an Ambassador – Ask: Am I reflecting Christ in my community? Take one step this week: pray, serve, reconcile.
  3. Abide Daily – Pause five minutes a day. Let Christ be your compass.

Living by clocks and calendars keeps us busy. Living by compass keeps us aligned.

Conclusion

This fractured world leaves us asking: Where am I going? Who am I becoming?

The Gospel answers:

  • You are renamed.
  • You are renewed.
  • You are sent as an ambassador.
  • You are rooted by abiding.

“If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” (2 Corinthians 5:17)

In the liminal space of 2025, let Christ be your compass.

Closing Prayer

Lord Jesus,
Thank You for renaming us, renewing us, and sending us. Help us to shed the old, live as Your ambassadors, and stay rooted in the Vine. In this fractured world, keep us walking by Your compass, not our culture’s maps. May we bear fruit that heals and hope that lasts.
Amen.

What I’ve Learned so Far About Life

Life ain’t a straight line. It’s not fair, it’s not simple, and it sure doesn’t wait on you to get your act together.

I’ve learned life will knock you flat more times than you think is reasonable, and just when you think you’re done, it hands you something beautiful.

People come and go. Some stay. Some wreck you. Some save you without ever knowing it. And sometimes, it’s the same person doing all three.

What matters is showing up—being real, and not pretending you’ve got it figured out.

About God

God’s not the preacher in the pulpit telling you to try harder.

God’s been in the silence. In the tears. In the porch swing moments. In the second chances.

I used to think God just wanted me to serve and obey. Now I know He wants me whole, free, and home.

I’ve learned God doesn’t waste anything—not even the pain, not even the years I thought were lost.

About Me

I’m not bulletproof, but I’ve taken a lot of hits and I’m still standing.

I’ve carried too much for too long. I’ve hid behind work and projects because it was easier than feeling what was real.

But I’ve also learned I’ve got more heart than I gave myself credit for. I’ve learned I can sit in the hard stuff. I can love people who are hard to love. I can still believe in better days.

About Grief

Grief is a ghost with a key to the front door.

You can’t outrun it, and you can’t outwork it. It waits. It teaches.

I buried my grief so deep I didn’t even realize it was shaping me.

But now I see—grief isn’t weakness. It’s proof that I loved someone more than life itself.

And now, I carry that love forward. Not as a wound—but as a fire.

About Living

Living isn’t just getting through the day.

It’s paying attention. It’s listening to the quiet voice that says, “Don’t miss this.”

It’s letting someone in, even when you’re scared they’ll leave.

Living is remembering that I still have breath—and that means I still have purpose.

About Hope

Hope isn’t loud. It doesn’t kick the door down.

It whispers. It sits with you. It says, “Try again.”

I’ve had every reason to quit—and yet, I don’t.

That’s hope. That’s grace.

I’ve learned hope comes in strange forms—a text, a glance, a moment when the world slows down and something just feels right.

Hope is still choosing to build. Still choosing to believe.

And if I’m honest, sometimes the person who changed me didn’t preach, didn’t fix, didn’t even try.

Just listened. Just stayed. Just saw me.

And something in me started to shift.

Maybe that’s what God does, too. Just shows up—and stays.

And for the first time in a long time…

That’s enough.

Lessons from Ancient Paths: Community, Faith, and Service

Today, my thoughts have been circling around the idea of showing up—how simple, steadfast presence shapes families, communities, and even the course of history.

Learning from the Great Characters

Recently, I’ve committed to a “great characters” study of Old Testament figures. Spending time with the lives of Abraham, Joseph, Moses, Ruth, and others, I’m struck by how their faith was not just expressed in the grand moments but in daily acts of trust and service. Abraham set out not knowing where he was going, Joseph forgave and provided for his brothers, Ruth gleaned faithfully in the fields, Moses endured years in the wilderness with a people often hard to love. In each story, faithfulness showed itself most in the willingness to simply show up—again and again—where God placed them.

The Early Church: Community in Action

This thread carries into the New Testament, especially in the story of the early church. Acts describes a group of ordinary people who devoted themselves to teaching, fellowship, breaking bread, and prayer. They pooled resources, cared for the poor, and made space for each other’s burdens. It wasn’t just the big, headline moments that defined them—it was the habit of gathering, praying, sharing needs, and finding creative ways to serve. The essence of their life together was being present for one another.

Buna: Where the Old Lessons Still Matter

What amazes me is how much those ancient practices still matter, even in a small community like Buna. Our challenges may look different than those in scripture, but the calling is much the same: show up for your neighbor, be generous with your time, share a meal, lend a listening ear, and offer practical help where you can. Whether it’s fixing a phone system for the EMS, planning a library program, or checking on a friend who’s had a hard week—these are the acts that bind a community together.

Faith, Partnership, and Small Steps

If there’s a lesson I keep learning, it’s that real progress—spiritual or practical—comes from faithful presence and partnership. Nobody does it alone. Sometimes, the work is slow, and not everyone pulls in the same direction, but day by day, small steps add up. This is as true in ministry as it is in building out broadband, running a business, or serving on a community board.

A Prayer for Today

As I look ahead, I’m praying for wisdom to keep showing up where I’m needed, patience to keep working even when the results are slow, and gratitude for the people God has placed alongside me on this journey.

To anyone reading: Don’t underestimate the power of being present. Whether you’re called to something big or small, your willingness to show up—consistently, quietly, faithfully—matters more than you know.

Here’s to carrying forward the lessons of ancient paths, right here in the heart of Buna.

— John

Finding God in the Texas Floods: Nature, Blame, and the Wisdom of Christ

Posted on July 8, 2025

In July 2025, central Texas was struck by a devastating flood that claimed over 100 lives, including more than two dozen children at Camp Mystic, a Christian summer camp. The Guadalupe River, swollen by heavy rains from the remnants of Tropical Storm Barry, surged from 1 foot to 36 feet in hours, turning a place of joy into a scene of unimaginable loss. As communities mourn, two narratives have emerged: one highlighting the floods’ predictability and preventability, and another decrying the rush to pin blame on political figures. Yet, as Christians, we are called to look beyond headlines to find God’s presence in tragedy, resist divisive impulses, and seek wisdom for the road ahead.Drawing on Psalm 46, the Parable of the Wise and Foolish Builders, and the timeless teachings of John Wesley and Augustine of Hippo, this article explores three questions: Where is God in the power and pain of nature? How do we overcome the temptation to cast blame? And what wisdom can we gain from Christ to respond with faith and action? The Texas floods challenge us to wrestle with suffering, but they also invite us to build our lives on the rock of God’s truth.God in Nature: Refuge in the Storm

The Free Press article, “The Texas Floods Were an Avoidable Tragedy,” paints a sobering picture: the floods were not a freak event but a recurring risk in Texas’ Flash Flood Alley, where the Guadalupe River’s limestone bed amplifies rapid water flow. Historical records and paleoclimatology show centuries of extreme flooding, from 1846 in New Braunfels to today. Despite advances in mitigation—flood fatality rates dropped by two-thirds from 1958 to 2018—the 2025 tragedy was worsened by inadequate warning systems, making it “preventable.

”Psalm 46:1–3 offers a powerful lens for understanding nature’s dual nature: “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam.” The psalmist acknowledges nature’s chaos—roaring waters, crumbling earth—yet finds God as a steadfast refuge. This promise resonates with flood survivors clinging to hope amid loss.

John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, provides theological clarity in his sermon “The General Deliverance” (1781). He teaches that natural disasters reflect a fallen creation, marred by humanity’s sin, where floods and earthquakes disrupt God’s original harmony. Yet, Wesley insists, God’s providence governs all events: “God is over all, and… He doeth whatsoever pleaseth Him in heaven, earth, and the sea.” The Texas floods, driven by the Guadalupe’s geological quirks, fit this view—a natural order permitted to produce suffering but never outside God’s sovereign care. Wesley’s hope lies in a future where creation is redeemed, free from such pain.

Augustine of Hippo, in City of God (Book XI), complements this by affirming God’s role in creation. He sees suffering as part of God’s plan in a fallen world, where God’s providence “orders all events to the fulfillment of His eternal purpose.” For Augustine, the floods are not divine punishment but opportunities for redemption—moments when God brings good from evil.

The community’s outpouring of support, from animal rescues to prayers for Camp Mystic, hints at this redemptive work: God’s love shining through human compassion. As we reflect on the Texas floods, Psalm 46 calls us to “be still, and know that God is God” (v. 10). Nature’s power can terrify, but God’s presence comforts. Have you seen God in nature’s beauty or trials—a sunset over a river, or hope amid a storm?

The floods remind us that God is both creator and sustainer, inviting us to trust Him even when the waters roar.

The Trap of Blame: Choosing Humility Over Judgment

The New York Post article, “Malicious Critics Are Trying to Blame Trump for the Texas Floods,” highlights a human impulse to point fingers after tragedy. Critics accused former President Trump and Elon Musk of gutting the National Weather Service (NWS) with 10% staff cuts, allegedly causing the high death toll.

The article counters that the NWS issued timely warnings—starting days before the flood, escalating to a flash flood emergency at 4 a.m. on July 4—yet the Guadalupe’s sudden surge overwhelmed response efforts. The rush to blame, labeled “malicious” and “fact-free,” reveals a deeper issue: our tendency to judge rather than seek solutions.

Jesus confronts this impulse in John 8:7, when He tells an accusing crowd, “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone.” Facing a woman caught in sin, Jesus redirects judgment to self-examination. Similarly, in Matthew 7:1–2, He warns, “Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged.”

These words challenge the political blame game surrounding the floods, urging us to look inward before casting stones. John Wesley, in “On Divine Providence” (1786), cautions against rash judgment: “Let us not rashly charge God with injustice… but humbly adore His unsearchable wisdom.” Wesley sees blame as a distraction from trusting God’s plan, which weaves even tragedies into a tapestry of redemption.

The NWS’s warnings, as the Post details, show human effort, but the tragedy’s scale suggests shared responsibility—local officials, communities, and individuals all play a role. Blaming one leader oversimplifies a complex failure.

Augustine, in Confessions (Book IV), reflects on his own grief and warns against blaming others: “I was miserable, and so is every soul… who seeks to blame rather than to seek You.” For Augustine, blame stems from human frailty, diverting us from God’s healing presence.

In the flood’s aftermath, pointing fingers at Trump or Musk risks ignoring practical steps, like improving warning systems, as the Free Press advocates.

The Texas floods expose our temptation to judge, but Jesus calls us to humility. When have you been quick to blame? How might Matthew 7:1–5 shift your perspective? By resisting blame, we open space for collaboration and healing, trusting God to guide us through human imperfection.Wisdom from Christ: Building on the Rock

The Texas floods demand more than reflection—they call for wisdom to respond with faith and action. Jesus’ Parable of the Wise and Foolish Builders (Matthew 7:24–27) offers timeless guidance: “Everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew… yet it did not fall… But everyone who hears these words… and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand… it fell with a great crash.” This parable speaks directly to the floods, where preparation (or lack thereof) determined outcomes.

The Free Press article underscores the tragedy’s preventability, noting that despite known risks in Flash Flood Alley, inadequate warning systems failed to save lives.

The Post highlights the NWS’s efforts, but the deaths at Camp Mystic suggest gaps in local response. Jesus’ parable warns against hearing truth—like flood warnings or historical data—without acting on it. Wisdom means building on the rock of Christ’s teachings: obedience, preparedness, and trust in God.

John Wesley, in “The Cause and Cure of Earthquakes” (1750), applies this principle to disasters: “God permits these evils, but He calls us to use our reason to lessen their effects.” Wesley sees human responsibility as a divine mandate, urging practical action to mitigate suffering.

The Free Press’s call for better warning systems echoes this, suggesting that wisdom involves learning from past floods to protect future lives. Whether through infrastructure or community planning, we’re called to act as stewards of God’s creation.

Augustine, in On Free Choice of the Will (Book III), teaches that wisdom comes from aligning our will with God’s: “God allows evil to exist… that we might learn to choose the good and find Him.” Suffering, like the loss at Camp Mystic, is a chance to grow in virtue—compassion, resilience, faith.

For Augustine, the Christian community’s response, from counselors’ bravery to animal rescues (Post article), reflects God’s grace transforming pain into purpose.The Parable of the Wise and Foolish Builders challenges us to act on Christ’s wisdom. How can we “build on the rock” in response to the floods?

Practical steps might include supporting disaster relief, advocating for improved warning systems, or fostering community preparedness. Spiritually, it means grounding our lives in prayer, Scripture, and trust in God’s providence, as Wesley and Augustine urge.

Living Out the Wisdom: A Call to Action The Texas floods of 2025 are a heart-wrenching reminder of nature’s power, human frailty, and God’s enduring presence. Psalm 46 assures us that God is our refuge, even when waters roar. Jesus’ teachings in John 8 and Matthew 7 call us to humility, resisting the trap of blame. The Parable of the Wise and Foolish Builders, enriched by Wesley and Augustine, equips us to face suffering with wisdom—building lives and communities that withstand the storms. As we mourn the lives lost, especially the children at Camp Mystic, let’s commit to practical and spiritual action:

  • Pray: Lift up flood victims, survivors, and responders, seeking God’s comfort and guidance.
  • Support: Donate to relief organizations or volunteer with groups like the animal rescue mentioned in the Post article.
  • Advocate: Push for better disaster preparedness, as the Free Press suggests, to prevent future tragedies.
  • Grow: Deepen your faith through Scripture, prayer, and community, trusting God’s providence as Wesley and Augustine teach.

The Texas floods challenge our faith, but they also reveal God’s presence—in nature’s order, human compassion, and Christ’s wisdom. Let’s build on the rock, living as lights in a world desperate for hope. What’s one step you’ll take to respond to this tragedy with faith and action? Share in the comments below, and join us in praying for Texas.

Hope, Reason, Faith in a time of Crisis

Keep in mind on any threat

God has our back no matter what-the exit from this life is death no matter when it happens-be depending on Jesus for your correct exit strategy

-the country survived the 1918, 1957, 2009, and 2017 flu pandemics

– the models are being adjusted downward each day or week as real data comes in, the models were 100% wrong and created bad general public policy decisions based on fear. we were going to have millions dead in the USA even with social lockdowns, now the ‘models’ predict less than 60,000 may die by early fall. That is a bad flu season that never gets much news coverage.

– the CV19 is bad if you get sick from it in some cases. Most people do not get sick after exposure. Most do not even know they have been exposed. if you are over 55, take extra precautions.

-we are better connected exponentially than ever before, there is a -nobel prize race occurring globally to develop vaccines and therapy/antidotes. Those who are at risk and get critically sick are being treated successfully in many cases.

We are resilient, ignore fear, pray, wash your hands, if you feel sick call a doctor. Be calm and continue. Fear leads always to bad decisions.