• On Christian Life

    Who is Jesus? pt 2

    I’m good at interviews. I don’t say that to sound proud or boastful, but I’ve had a lot of success and coached a lot of people to getting hired. Several years ago I began to understand how interviews work: what employers are looking for, how I come across to others, and what kinds of questions they will ask me. But even as adept as I am at interviews, there are occasionally some questions that stump me. They are usually questions that are deep and require introspection on another level such as: How would your enemies describe you to us? If I asked you to make a box, what would you…

  • On Christian Life

    Dear Dad – A Father’s Day Letter

    Dear Dad, Sorry we haven’t spoken in a while. After you died you made it a little difficult. I’m not blaming you, Dad, but talking is difficult with you dead. Actually, it was difficult the last few years as Alzheimer’s set in. That was really hard to watch. You were a chatty guy, always opinionated, always passionate, and I miss that about you. I miss our talks, and I wonder what we would talk about if you were still alive. Would you be surprised or pleased with the way I’ve turned out as a husband and father? You probably wouldn’t be surprised, except that I haven’t run for president yet.…

  • On Christian Life

    Who Is Jesus? pt 1

    I used to really hate my name. It was hard being named Chip when I was little. I’ve heard it all: Chips Ahoy, Chip ‘n Dale, Chipmunk, Potato Chip, Chipster, Chippie, Chipper, and even Vanilla Chip (my buddy Nate told me I was too white to be Chocolate Chip). The names used to really bother me. It was just more ammo for the bullies. I was already a nerdy kid. Having the name Chip, I might as well have had a bandage on my glasses and worn suspenders. But now I love being named Chip. It’s different, which suits me. I don’t meet many Chips. I occasionally run into someone…

  • On Christian Life

    What is sin?

    When I was six I had a friend in my class die on his way home from school. His name was Andy. He lived just a couple blocks from the school, and we played baseball together during the summer. He was quiet and kind, and I liked him a lot. It was a shock to me when my parents told me he was dead. He was walking home from school that day when a young man was driving by and, in a moment every parent dreads, struck Andy and killed him. My young mind couldn’t really grasp it. I had just said goodbye to him an hour before, and by…