From my vantage point at the back, her smile radiated and his hand punched confidently into the air as song lyrics proclaimed Jesus the King. They were two worshipers juxtaposed across my line of vision. These teens unashamedly and joyfully responded to God, their faith in Jesus on display, and it brought me to tears.I had spent the worship service much like I spent it every week—passing out paper and markers, rummaging for other quiet activities to keep little hands busy and voices quiet, hearing bits and pieces of the sermon, bouncing a baby on my hip, and whispering variations of “Shh, time to stop talking, Pastor Shayne is praying.” In short, doing everything I could to keep my children from distracting others. Our small church didn’t have a children’s ministry, so everyone was together. I loved much about the arrangement. My children experienced all the aspects of church together, and they could tell you what the communion elements meant and why we celebrated it every week. They saw adults pray and sing. They got to listen to Daddy play guitar and preach sometimes. But I’d be a liar if I said it was easy. Sometimes I was bone tired, weary, and wished I could listen to the sermon without my four little “distractions” in tow. Sometimes I handed out markers with an overwhelmed, grudging heart. And more than once I wished I could send them along to their own classes and call it a day.“Is it even worth it?” I asked myself. “Are they taking in anything? Am I teaching them they can worship too or just to be quiet so the adults can concentrate?” But Worship Isn’t About MeSo it was at the end of another such service when I noticed two teenagers simply and humbly worshiping. Neither was putting on a show or drawing attention to themselves. The teens’ sincerity struck a tender spot in my knotted up, weary soul, and spurred my own heart to respond. The worship service was not about me or whether I was inconvenienced. It wasn’t about being able to sit with rapt attention in the front row with a notebook and pen in hand. Worship is about God. And my heart needed to remember I could worship even when it wasn’t easy and didn’t look the way I longed for it to look. And how did my attitude seep through to my children? What were the messages I was sending? My self-focus almost missed something beautiful—the heartfelt responses of others around me and the opportunity to bow my own heart to God.The body of Christ is such a marvelous gift. They probably had no idea anyone was watching, but I needed the testimonies of these young ones with their radiant smiles and raised hands. I needed them to encourage and to convict. The teenagers at our church were fantastic and not just these two. All of them sought ways to help and serve. They participated in community group and added thoughtful comments to the discussion. Their desire to grow in the faith shone brightly. They gave me so much hope for the next generation.They gave me hope that my small people noticed them also. And they did. “When I’m a teenager I’m going to sing and play the guitar at church!” sweet voices chorused around the dinner table.Disciples at Any AgeWith Jesus’s parable about the sower at the forefront of my mind, I breathed a prayer that day (Matt. 13:1–8). “Oh that I would get to see my own children worshiping with joy and zeal! Lord, let the Word fall on good ground. Let its roots grow deep. Let it produce fruit one hundred fold.”In the soil cultivating and seed planting days, we pray for rain. Harvest seems so far away.Yet these teens were not so far removed from their childhood, and God was clearly at work. My children not only saw adults who loved Jesus, but they also got to observe disciples who were closer in age. These young friends were seed planters also, and they didn’t even know it. All the hours gathering with the church were not wasted. Surrounded by the body, my small people began to understand Jesus is not just a word, but a real, living person. He is the Savior whose body was broken and whose blood was poured out for them (Isa. 53:5; Matt. 26:26–28). He’s worth the focus of our affections.Finally that same day, I knew a moment of grief for another teenage girl from the past. Exuberant and “on fire” for Jesus, she knew God could move mountains despite her largely untested faith. She was the girl serving any way she could, eager to go on mission trips, work at camp, and change the world. She dreamed of doing “big things for God.” Limitations? Nah. God could do whatever he wanted. I was that girl. At fourteen my life had turned a 180, and I’d never looked back. “Take my life and let it be consecrated Lord to thee,” I had prayed upon many a church stair. I grieved this past girl with fewer scars and big expectations, the girl with a fresh face, not yet battle worn. For a moment I missed the days when the Christian life seemed limitless. Big things were on the horizon. Opportunities abounded. I couldn’t wait to see what this wild and wonderful life held.I also missed the freedom of young adult days, when limits and responsibilities still were few, when I could give myself to the ways I wanted to serve God. Life has a way of looking nothing like one expects, however. Even the things we long for, pray for, and dearly love seem lack-luster some days. Answered prayer may be a delight, but the life we craved may also be more difficult than we knew. We sing, “Father, use my ransomed life in any way you choose,” and mean it. But sometimes we wonder if what he chooses truly is best.Time and trials refract our big dreams, bending them with changed perspectives. I can grieve that zealous, enthusiastic teenager, but also be thankful that “40 Something” year-old Ami is comprehensively different. And if I live long enough, the Ami I’ll be in my 80s will also be radically different than who I am now. Life lived brings maturity, wisdom, and more shades of gray—not everything is black and white. Mercifully, sanctification is progressive (Phil. 1:6).Small Things Are Big ThingsPerhaps God doesn’t have big things for me to do right now. Perhaps I need to learn faithfulness in the small things. Limitations aren’t always a bad thing. The King of the universe limited himself. The limitless one took on limits, fences, boundaries. Just like his brothers, he put on skin that sweat, stank after a long day, and needed washing. He put on a body subject to fatigue and illness. He limited his understanding so his brain would develop like the other children around him. Ultimately, he limited his power and refused to rescue himself in order that we could be rescued (Phil. 2:5–8).Maybe my limits are also good.Maybe I need to remind myself: Do small stuff for God. Despise not mundane faithfulness. In the upside down (or truly right side up) kingdom of Christ, small things become big things.I’m not here to be a cynic or to rob my young friends of zeal or big dreams. Please keep dreaming guys! For truly nothing is impossible for God. You could indeed be a William Carey or Amy Carmichael. Or for more modern references, a Jackie Hill Perry or David Platt. The kingdom still needs dreamers, and the weary moms in the back need you.But I’ll tell you, young friends, the plans God has for you probably look much different than the plans you have for yourself. The road will take unexpected turns. There will be more thorns and storms than you’d like to think. The valleys may be exceptionally deep. But there will also be more fragrant flowers and more ravishing sunsets than you can imagine. God’s path is hard. But God’s path is worth it. There are indeed higher joys and deeper peace found only as we learn to know Christ more (Phil. 3:8-10).A Spectacular PlanWe like to tell youth, “God has a spectacular plan for you. He could use your life in mighty ways.” Young friends, we are not lying to you. But perhaps God’s spectacular plan, the mighty things he can do in and through you aren’t visible things. Maybe mighty isn’t always a public platform or large influence.Maybe spectacular is a heart with bed rock, unshakeable faith. Maybe spectacular is one who gives the shirt off his back and does the unseen things, without commendation or applause. Maybe spectacular is the encouragement you give a weary mom with your honest worship.So young friends, set your eyes on the cross. Since we know the spectacular is wherever Christ is, you can confidently lay your dreams at his feet. He may shape them, mold them, ask for them, or strip them away. But if he does, know you have a Father who is always good. He might take your dream, remake it, and hand it right back to you when the time is right. Or he might replace it with a different dream. Either way, his plan is better. Better doesn’t mean easier—a life always marked by sunshine and cool breezes—but it does mean he is there. And it does mean he is sovereign. And it does mean he is always kind. And it does mean you can trust him. Keep on worshiping with a sincere heart. Keep outwardly responding. Hang on to your enthusiasm and let God’s light shine through. There’s a weary mom at the back who needs you.

Excerpt from Perfected: Trading Shame and Striving for Wholeness in Christ by Bethany Broderick (© 2025). Published by B&H Publishing. Used by permission. In Luke 15, Jesus told the story of a good father who had two sons. The younger son was impetuous and lustful. He selfishly demanded his inheritance from his father, as if wishing his father were dead, but squandered it away in a life of “reckless living” (v. 13 ESV). He eventually became destitute to the point of eating discarded pig food. Ashamed, he began walking toward his father’s house, hoping that he could be welcomed back as a lowly servant. “But while the son was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion. He ran, threw his arms around his neck, and kissed him” (v. 20). Running was one of the most shameful acts for a Middle Eastern man in that culture, yet the father humiliated himself so he could set his son free from his own shame.[1]He welcomed his son back home with open arms and threw a grand feast in his honor.  Buy on Amazon The older son had remained by the father’s side during his brother’s rebellion. He strove to honor his father, learn their trade, and obey the rules. Yet he did not do so out of love for his father, but from a selfish desire for reward and recognition. The older brother may have appeared faithful, but he was just as self-centered as his younger brother. When he saw his wasteful brother being celebrated with a fattened calf, the older brother lashed out in anger toward his father. He believed his brother was receiving better treatment than he had received. Again, in his extravagant love, the father sought out his prideful son and entreated him to enjoy the celebration: “Son, . . . you are always with me, and everything I have is yours” (v. 31). The father reminded his eldest son that while the younger brother starved with the pigs, he had freely enjoyed the abundance of the father. All the father’s blessings were freely available to him as well, whether or not he fulfilled the cultural expectation of being a good son. While this parable is often titled “The Prodigal Son” in our English translations, Jesus focused his story not on the two wayward sons but on the forgiving father. The narrative does not center on the excessive guilt of the younger brother or the unbridled pride of the older. Rather, it tells the story of the father’s extravagant grace. It was the father who chased after the younger son who hung his head in self-condemnation. It was the father who beckoned the older son held captive by his self-righteousness. Just as both sons needed to be reminded of the goodness of their father, our heavenly Father rescued us from the bondage of our sinful pride—whether it manifests as self-condemnation or self-righteousness. While I have played the role of both brothers in my life,it’s the older brother with whom I more often resonate. He did all the right things and was still woefully unhappy. He spent his life trying to prove his worth to his father, yet he still felt empty. In his vain efforts, the older brother missed the love and acceptance his father freely offered him. I have spent much of my Christian life striving in self-righteousness instead of resting in the righteousness of the perfect Son, Jesus Christ—“the pioneer and perfecter of our faith” (Heb. 12:2). Years of bitterness and anger passed before I realized that I was welcomed into the Father’s house just as I am. But despite the lavish love and forgiveness available to us, many believers, like me, still hang our heads in shame and strain ahead in striving. Perfected Once for All  We aren’t the first generation of believers Satan has weighed down with shame and striving. The same legalistic struggles pervaded the early church, especially the audience of the book of Hebrews. The unknown author wrote this rich sermon to a congregation of Jewish Christians a few decades after the death of Christ. Emperor Nero was ramping up persecution of Christians in the Roman Empire, and these young believers struggled to find their place when they were rejected by both religious Jewish culture and the secular Roman culture. Taking advantage of this pressure, Satan began tempting them to look back to rituals and rules of Judaism that appeared safer and more controllable than the sacrifice and surrender of Christianity. In the first nine chapters, the author of Hebrews knocks down the pillars of this gospel of works one after another. No angel can provide better revelation of God than Jesus. No spiritual leader like Moses or Abraham could keep the law of God better than Jesus. No priest, sacrifice, or temple could bring them into the loving presence of God than the better perfect priest, sacrifice, and temple of Jesus. Jesus is better than anything we could ever offer him—better than anything we can do to make ourselves whole. The Spirit-inspired words of the author knock down pillars in my own life as well. The belief that God withholds his approval and blessings when I fail. The pressure to prove myself to God and those around me. The prideful self-sufficiency that refuses to turn to the gracious Father, the compassionate Savior, and the comforting Holy Spirit. In the tenth chapter of Hebrews, the author narrows in on one of the biggest strongholds in the lives of these believers. He addresses the sacrificial system which had been in place since God delivered his people out of Egypt. In this chapter, the author attempts to set right the balance between God’s law and God’s love. The writer of Hebrews wants the church—both then and now—to rest in the perfect work Christ accomplished for us on the cross. We no longer bear the weight of making ourselves good enough before God because “he has perfected forever those who are sanctified” (Heb. 10:14, emphasis added). Hebrews 10 relieves us of the burden of self-righteous works, declaring it impossible for our own good deeds to take away our sin.[2] Yet it also gives hope to those trapped in self-condemnation, reminding us we have confidence to enter the presence of God by the blood of Christ.[3] So whether we feel pride or shame in how good we are today, Hebrews 10 beckons us to trade our shame and striving for wholeness in Christ. The Law Never Satisfies I still struggle to rest in God’s love for me rather than my own work for him. It’s easier to fall back into my old habits of obeying the law in my own strength rather than relying on his Spirit to work in me. I’m tempted to focus on my adherence to rules rather than my relationship with God.                           I must daily remind myself of the law’s place in God’s redemptive story. The law reveals God’s holiness and humanity’s sinfulness, and it points us to the hope of a perfect Savior. But adherence to the law could never bring life.[4] Only through the life, death, and resurrection of Christ could we at last be made children of God.[5] “Love consists in this: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins” (1 John 4:10). Our faith is not in God’s law but in his love. Obeying the law will never satisfy us like the love of Christ can. No amount of good works can ever make us feel enough like resting in the good work Christ has done on our behalf. Rather than staying trapped in the cycle of self-righteousness and self-condemnation, we can lift our eyes to Christ who has perfected us and made us whole in him. So whether you’re more like the younger brother who squandered away his father’s riches or the older brother who wasted the privilege of his father’s presence, the heavenly Father will forever welcome you back to him. You can reject the lie that God wants your good behavior more than he wants you to run to him with your heart, broken and humble.[6]And you and I can trust that, in his grace and love, God is always running toward us. When you feel like God’s affection for you is determined by your good work for him, you can trade your shame and striving for the truth that: I am enough because God loves me unconditionally.  [1] Kristi McLelland, Jesus and Women in the First Century and Now (Nashville: Lifeway Press, 2019).[2] Hebrews 10:4[3] Hebrews 10:19[4] Galatians 3:19–22[5] Galatians 3:26[6] Psalm 51:16–17

Excerpt from Someone to Believe In: Embracing the Savior Who Stays the Same When Everything Else Changes by Courtney Reissig (© 2025). Published by B&H Publishing. Used by permission. When the Prologue (verses 1-18) in John’s Gospel ends, John hits the ground running, showing us stories of belief and how Jesus is the Christ. At the beginning, the incarnation drives these stories. If you see him as the Word made flesh and believe, you receive the right to be his child (verse 12). This is the burning question for the witnesses in John. When the God who made everything, and upholds it all right now with his power, walks among you—do you believe? He doesn’t walk among us today, but the question burns as hot as ever. In the Word, we see him. Do we believe?    The rest of John 1 introduces us to many key players in the life of Christ. They explain the Prologue and set the stage for the rest of the book. They come to us in varied stages of belief and from different circumstances. But all are confronted with the Jesus who draws near, who shows what God is like. We meet John the Baptist, who is confronted by priests, leaders, and fellow Jews about this man he baptized in the Jordan. “Are you the Messiah?” they ask. John had a following in his own right, but he knew his place. He kept pointing to the one who came after him—the one who fulfilled all that had been promised before them.    Buy on Amazon It sounded crazy that the Messiah walked among them as God incarnate. But how can he be “the lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world,” (verse 29) if he isn’t God in the flesh? The blood of bulls and goats wasn’t taking care of it for them. The long and painful history of Israel proved they needed something more potent.But he doesn’t just come as a sacrifice, he comes as a relational person. He comes to “dwell” among his people. He comes to call disciples to himself and walk among them as friends. He comes to call people out of darkness and into light.   When he meets his first disciples at the end of John 1, some follow because of John the Baptist’s repeated cry: “Look, the Lamb of God!” (verse 36). They see who he is, but it’s a veiled sight. There is an immediacy to their belief, they follow him at once. But throughout John, it’s a process. As the chapter progresses, more disciples join them, but this time they weren’t looking for Jesus. Instead, Jesus finds Philip and says, “Follow me.” Like any good disciple, he passes it on and finds Nathanael, but is met with skepticism. They’ve never seen anything good come from Nazareth, surely it can’t be where the long-awaited Messiah is from? But Jesus is undeterred by the doubts, which only reinforce both his deity and his believability. He had every right to demand belief from Nathanael, but he didn’t coerce him. He speaks to him in the ways Nathanael needs. He needed to see that someone believable could come out of Nazareth, so Jesus reveals his knowledge. He knew Nathanael before Nathanael knew him. And that was enough for Nathanael to hear and believe. He’s given the “right” to become a child of God. Nathanael received him.   Finding Belief  The Gospel writers portray a flesh and blood Savior. They portray a man who walked the earth. A man who lived a real life and died a real death. They show him rising from the dead and ascending to heaven. They paint a picture of a Savior who weeps, eats, and bleeds. We understand a living Savior. We even understand a dying Savior. But John comes and says, “He has always existed. He even created the entire world.” Belief requires us to put our faith and trust in someone—something—outside ourselves. It might not always make sense in our finite minds, but it’s true. John urges us to take a hard look at this Savior and find everything he writes worthy of our belief—even if it feels too radical to comprehend.   Much ink has been spilled on the incarnation. Entire books have been written about it. Theological arguments have been had about it. But there is something to be said for the effect of the incarnation. There is the “believability” factor that leads to doubt among Christians, that’s certain. But there is also the believability factor that leads to life.   No other religion has a God stooping so low. No other religion has a God taking the punishment on himself. No other religion has a God walking among his people and calling them his friends. No other religion has a God who lets people ask him questions, even insulting ones.   But this Christ, he does it all. The remainder of John 1 shows Jesus living out his deity. It’s the incarnation on display. At his baptism, John testifies that the Holy Spirit descended on Jesus like a dove—affirming his messiahship (verse 34). John the Baptist repeatedly cries out that this is the Lamb of God, the one promised to remove the sins of God’s people. As Jesus continues his ministry journey, he calls his disciples to himself personally. He sees them before they see him. He knows their doubts and stands ready with an answer before they even open their mouths. The incarnation is deeply personal because we have a God who draws near and calls us his friends. He invites them to follow him, and he gives them new names. God could have saved us from a distance, but he drew near. His entire ministry on earth was rooted in relationship because his intent was always to dwell. His rescue plan to resume life among his people is the centerpiece of the Bible—and John 1 is the fulfillment of the story. From the Word creating the world to the Word inhabiting the world, tabernacling among us was always the point. He’s that kind of Savior. Of all the world’s people to put our trust in, why would we resist believing in such a leader as this?  Philippians 2:6-7 says this about the radical nature of Christ’s incarnation:  who, existing in the form of God,  did not consider equality with God  as something to be exploited   Instead he emptied himself  by assuming the form of a servant,  taking on the likeness of humanity.  He didn’t have to come. He possessed everything he could ever want in heaven. He had to empty himself to assume a human body and tabernacle among us. The God who deserves our service came to serve. The God who is highly exalted, took up residence in a human body and was born in a barn. He left it all so we could have it all. Is that believable?   A lot makes Christianity seem unbelievable—makes Christ seem unbelievable. As A.J. Swoboda says in his book, A Glorious Dark, “People would rather follow someone real than someone good. But I think the world will eventually be changed by those who are both good and real.”The God who created the world and everything in it, also left it all to live among the world he made—and bring us back to him. It is as the great hymn writer says, he “emptied himself of all but love.” As he walked among the people he created, love compelled him to call them and draw them. He may have emptied himself of the right to exert his deity at all times, but love is who God is and that can never be taken from him. It’s what kept him going. Dwelling among his people was always his goal. All we have to do is believe in his name—and that this name is both good and real.  What makes him someone to believe in today—as he is no longer walking the earth? Maybe you are like Philip, and he is calling you to follow him. Do you hear John’s words that he is the Lamb of God, and do you believe? Or are you more like Nathanael, looking around at the Christian landscape and thinking nothing good can come out of Christianity anymore? Just as Philip looked at Nathanael, Jesus looks at you and says, “Come and see.”