As I look back, it’s embarrassing.

My computer mouse acted sluggishly. You could grab that mouse and whip it diagonally from one corner of the screen up to the other, and the cursor would move, but only sluggishly. At times, it appeared to freeze for a second. But was it my imagination that the lag times were getting longer?

The mouse appeared to be pausing, halting randomly. Because the mouse is such a crucial part of any computer workflow, my productivity slowed down (though my pulse sped up!). Over time, it became apparent I wasn't just imagining things. That mouse was pausing longer, moving slower.

Earlier this week, while editing some audio files, it didn’t just pause. It pooped out.

I powered down the computer and booted up again, hoping it was just a glitch of some kind. No luck. No mouse. No more.

So I scoured the internet for answers, beginning with the manufacturer. Because it’s a wireless mouse, I immediately replaced the battery. But there was still no life.

On a hunch, I decided to swap out the "new" battery from our vast collection, housed in a plastic tub, with one I knew to be absolutely brand new. You can easily guess the end of the story. The mouse powered up immediately and performed flawlessly, as it has ever since. All it took was a power boost.

But what about you?

Any chance you might need a “fresh battery?” I’m not talking about your mouse. I’m talking about your ministry. About your walk with Christ. About your prayer life, perhaps.

We get so busy "doing" the Christian life that it's easy to forget what God (thankfully) remembers: "that we are but dust" (Psalm 103:14). Which means, apart from His empowerment, we're bound to feel sluggish, lagging, and frozen up.

If you're feeling unproductive and just plain weary—as if your batteries are shot—ponder again the promise of Isaiah 40:29. It's time to connect. But don't wait!

He gives strength to the weary, and to the one who lacks might He increases power.

JT and his wife had prayed earnestly for his church’s VBS, prayed that God would bring in kids who needed to hear about the love of Jesus.

But JT was not prepared for God’s answer, nor did he particularly approve of the Almighty’s student selection for the class that he and his wife would lead.

Elliot was loud, undisciplined, and unpredictable. He was also, it strongly appeared, on the autistic spectrum.

Instead of singing along with the worship band, Elliot cried—the noise being too much. When others waved their worship streamers to the beat, Elliot thrashed his entire body. Instead of merely laughing politely at jokes, he roared so loudly that those around him (and those far away) gawked at the disruption. At times, he howled mournfully, a lone wolf in despair.

It was impossible to tell whether Elliot heard or understood a single word shared during the Bible lessons. But early on JT’s wife, who understands these things, made Elliot the special object of her care.

At song time, she helped him do the motions. At class time, she graciously overlooked his outbursts. In a word, she loved Elliot. Loved him with the love of Jesus. And few little boys have needed it more.

Elliot’s mom died last year.

But for one week, this island week of craziness called Vacation Bible School, a loud and unpredictable Elliot found the thing he needed most.

Go and learn what this means: “I desire mercy and not sacrifice.”

 — Jesus, (Matthew 9:13a)

Have you ever met anyone who has shipwrecked their faith?

You've likely heard of the "exvangelical" movement. These people grew up in evangelical churches but have since "de-identified" from evangelicalism. They've walked away from their faith.

According to a Religion in Public blog, between four and five percent of the American population can be classified as exvangelical. Personally, I’m weary of reading their stories. What’s behind this trend?

https://religioninpublic.blog/2021/03/01/exvangelicals-a-note-on-size-and-sources/

Actually, it’s nothing new. Paul saw it coming in his day, which is why he wrote in 1 Timothy 1:18,19, “This command I entrust to you, Timothy, my son, in accordance with the prophecies previously made concerning you, that by them you fight the good fight, keeping faith and a good conscience, which some have rejected and suffered shipwreck in regard to their faith.”

For many, the greatest danger in shipwrecking our faith is the presumption that it’s inconceivable. “Not me,” we insist.

But a shipwreck is possible for every one of us! Not just possible, it's probable! Consider: if you are floating in a boat, you are surrounded by that which could kill you! The same is true spiritually.

• The world wants to shipwreck your faith.
• The flesh wants to shipwreck your faith.
• The devil wants to shipwreck your faith.

With all that opposition, how do we avoid a personal spiritual shipwreck? Paul offers three keys in his instructions to Timothy—and us.

Key #1: Prepare to fight (verse 18). We're not called to "love the good rest" but to "fight the good fight." Avoiding shipwreck is a struggle for which we must prepare.

Key #2: “Keep the faith” (verse 19). When circumstances turn hard and answers are few, we don’t chuck our faith. We keep it. We keep holding on to Christ.

Key #3: "Keep a good conscience" (verse 19). We don't violate what we know to be true about Christ and His Word. We stay with the stuff.

Consider: No one ever drifts toward the Lord. We drift away from Him. Shipwreck is not merely possible. It’s probable!

If only there were a warning sign. Or maybe, this is it!

Photo by GEORGE DESIPRIS: https://www.pexels.com/photo/white-and-black-sunken-ship-2056194/

It happened at Hogansville.

I refer to the Georgia town 60 miles southwest of Atlanta. From a glance out the window, there isn't much going on in Hogansville, population 3,267. Unless, of course, you're into hummingbirds. Here, Hogansville shines. Since 1998, they have faithfully hosted an annual Hummingbird event, billed as "Midwest Georgia's Favorite Fall Festival."

But it was a sign on a tree—not a bird at a fair— that caught my eye on Interstate 85 as we rolled past the outskirts of Hogansville. The letters popped out in fire engine red on a day-glow yellow diamond shape. There were just three words on that sign nailed to the trunk: "Save Me Jesus."

Not sure it was by design, but I found a certain irony in the wording of that sign. To save us is precisely why Jesus was nailed to a tree.

1 Peter 2:24 declares of Jesus, “He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree (cross), that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed.”

"Save me, Jesus." Have you prayed that prayer? Have you asked Jesus to rescue you from the self-centered (sinful) lifestyle we all fall into? Have you asked Him to take charge of you—to be your Savior—and to help you turn away from your me-monster lifestyle?

If you haven’t, if all you have is a vague sense of religiosity with a dash of Jesus thrown in—this is your moment, and this is your prayer.

Consider it—your sign.

He was born in a broken neighborhood in East Los Angeles. When his parents divorced, his heart and home were broken. Statistically speaking, Frank would likely never amount to anything but trouble.

Yet God had his hand on Frank. After graduating from a Christian university, Frank sensed a call to evangelism and scheduled a series of meetings in the summer of 1961.

Yolanda remembers. She was 15, babysitting at the home of a liberal mainline pastor’s family. “I honestly don’t think he was saved,” Yolanda recalls.

But Yolanda was spiritually hungry and wanted to study the Bible. When she mentioned that to the pastor, he handed her a flyer advertising a week of evangelistic meetings at Garfield High School in East Los Angeles.

The pastor offered to drive Yolanda and her friends to the school. She smiles, recalling, “It ended up that we had nearly 25 kids and it took several vehicles.”

Speaking that night was a young trumpet-playing evangelist named Frank Gonzales. His music was bright, his message was clear: apart from Christ, there is no hope for salvation.

That very night, Yolanda received Christ, as did ten of her friends. As for Frank Gonzales, he went on to share Christ with people all over the United States, Canada, Mexico, and Guatemala.

But the remarkable thing about Frank was that he didn’t do this ministry alone. He assembled teams of college-aged kids (like Yolanda) to travel with him and sing and share in week-long outreaches that included sports, door-to-door witnessing, and evening concerts and preaching.

Notably, many of the team members Frank took only be described as broken. They came from troubled families, were former drug addicts, or had social issues. Frank loved them and discipled them all.

Team members attended class every morning. My wife Diana, who traveled with the ministry for three years, recalls. "We were taught theology, Scripture memorization, and personal evangelism. Frank was absolutely committed to our growth."

By the time Frank died in 1994, he had discipled more than 4,000 young people, and many thousands more were saved at churches and other meetings where he spoke and played.

The world said that Frank would never amount to anything. But God whispered otherwise.

Maybe you feel broken at this very moment. Broken emotionally, relationally—maybe spiritually. You might have a broken past, a broken track record. And every voice you hear seems to say, “You’ll never amount to anything.”

But God whispers otherwise. Search the Scriptures and you’ll discover the undeniable: Christ loves to use broken people.

Just ask the thousands of people touched for eternity by the broken boy from the broken neighborhood in East Los Angeles.