Ministry Feed

School is back in session. My first week back at the University of Iowa, freshmen settling in, and I've spent it meeting students and finding ways into the gospel one conversation at a time.

A lot of you ask me how I even start. It's simpler than you'd think. I ask, "How can I pray for you?" Christian or not, most people are open to that, to the idea that someone cares enough to bring them before a higher power. Usually I get the surface answer first: prayer for school, for a job after graduation. Good things, and I pray for them. Then I ask the next one: if God did a miracle in your life today, what would it be? That's when the pondering starts. That's when the real need comes up.

Today I met Bodie and Austin, two freshmen from Des Moines who are serious about their faith. I told them how we do this, gathering at tables of four instead of rooms full of people. Nothing against worship and preaching, but the growth happens at a table where people get vulnerable and actually say their faith out loud.

Turns out Bodie had badly sprained his ankle the day before, so Austin and I got to pray healing over him. I can't wait to hear how he's walking. We're starting a Bible study with the two of them, their roommate, and one more friend.

Pray for these guys, and for all the students I get to coach. There are 40,000 of them here. That's a lot of tables, and I can't pull up a chair at all of them alone.

This past Sunday at Adrian and Megan's house we laid out communion on a small table in the middle of the room. Then each family came up and led it themselves. They prayed through it, talked about what the elements meant, and served one another face to face. When one family finished, the next came down and did the same. This went on for about ten minutes, and it was a beautiful thing to watch. Communion wasn't being put on for us. We were hosting it for one another.

When I think about the early church, the ones closest to the time of Jesus, remembering His sacrifice and resurrection was the most central part of how they gathered. That's why we keep communion at the center of our worship, whether we're in a home or a church or wherever we find ourselves with other believers.

So let me ask you: how often do you take communion? Is it only on Sundays, in a certain building, led by certain people? The Bible says as often as you remember the Lord. There's no limit and not many rules, other than do this together and don't make it about yourself. It's a group expression of the goodness of God through the blood and body of Christ.

If ordinary tables becoming altars stirs something in you, our course "Come to the Table" walks through how hospitality, evangelism, and communion come together in practical ways. Go lead communion for someone this week. It's okay to do it on your own. It's so much better when we do it together.

Almost a year ago I stopped a young man in our local mall. He barely spoke English. He is from Angola, a Portuguese speaking country in Africa, and I got that much across before I asked to pray for him. He let me. We swapped phone numbers, I said I'd love to connect, and then I got distracted and never followed up.

Six months later I'm standing in the lobby of a local church we're now working with called Life Church, and there's Pedro. "Weren't you the guy who prayed for me in the mall?" His English had come a long way, and it clicked. We started hanging out. Now he's been coming to help me with worship at a Celebrate Recovery gathering at Iowa City Church where I lead worship twice a month.

We've had deep prayer and repentance in those rooms. We've had salvations. The worship starts and people begin to weep, and you realize this isn't a performance. We get to host the presence of God, and He shows up. Pedro has a job now and he's walking through our discipleship pathway.

Pray for Pedro. Pray for that Celebrate Recovery program. God had this whole thing planned before I ever dropped the ball on that follow up.

I think one of the things I realize is that the most important relationships that I have have come from times of evangelism. When I'm living on mission, God brings people that I am meant to be connected with. Those relationships can't be forced; we must stumble across them, led by the spirit, surprised at every corner and every turn.

My dad passed on July 18th while we were driving from Iowa to Denver, about two hours from his home. We had known stage 4 lung cancer was having its way in his body for some time. That didn't make it hurt less. Loss is loss.

I got five days with him the week before. We talked about my childhood, about sports, and as the only follower of Jesus in my family, I talked to him about God. He was a New Yorker and loved the Knicks. A month before he passed he told me, "If the Knicks win the championship I think God might be real." They won. Turns out he wore a cross through the last 11 games they played.

He let me pray with him and read scripture with him, really for the first time in our relationship. Maybe his heart was softening. Maybe he just wanted to spend time with his son and knew how much scripture and prayer meant to me. It's hard to know if someone has truly grabbed hold of Jesus, and maybe that's not for me to judge. Here's what I do know: George Gluckler died at peace.

I kept a few pairs of suits, which are all a little too small for me. It's funny as a child we think about our parents as so much bigger than they are. I used to think my Dad could beat up Hulk Hogan and now I need his suits tailored to my size. Our perception of life seems to change as our vantage point increases.

As a man, whose earthly father has passed, my greatest hope is that I can resemble my heavenly Father in some way. I most want to be transformed into His image. It's not by power and not by human strength that we are changed but only by the Spirit are we truly saved, healed and delivered into glory.

I pray for peace over everyone who is dealing with loss. It is part of life and we all must face it at times. God is close to the brokenhearted. Grace and Peace.

On Monday I stood in front of Alec and Alyssa and married them. Five years I have watched this. Saturday mornings at Alec's house, coffee and an open Bible, working through what God's word actually says. Then a Bible study in his living room, me teaching live on Zoom through ID3, and that is where Alyssa walked in.

Here is what those five years taught me. Something happens when you open your home to people. In our family the table is the most important place, and who we invite to it matters. I have tried to model that at every step, and Alec and Alyssa picked it up as their own. Their door is open. Their table is set. People come in and taste the goodness of God.

At the reception I made a toast. Weddings are like fireworks, loud and celebratory and gone in a minute. Marriages are campfires. They give off warmth so that people come close. Marriages are meant to keep burning throughout the night.

That is the product of discipleship. A life and marriage that offers a warm place to to gather.