Tag: bible

The Resurrection Factor: 5 Ways the Message of Easter Impacts Us

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

(An Easter Sermon based on John 20:1-18 shared at the First Baptist Church of Pensacola on April 5, 2015)

Early on that first Easter morning, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene made her way to the tomb. What she expected to find was death. What she discovered instead was life.

And everything changed.

That’s the power of what I want to call today “The Resurrection Factor.” It is the defining difference-maker of the Christian faith. It is not just something we believe happened—it is something that continues to happen in us and through us.

As Will Willimon once said, “We spend so much time trying to explain the resurrection, when in reality, the resurrection explains us.”

The Gospel of Johntells us it was still dark. That detail matters. Because resurrection often begins in the dark—when hope feels buried, when prayers seem unanswered, when life doesn’t make sense.

Mary came looking for a body, but she encountered a risen Savior.

And that is what the resurrection does—it interrupts our assumptions and replaces them with God’s reality.

What difference does Easter really make? Here are five ways the resurrection impacts us:

1. Forgiveness becomes our reality.

Jesus bore the weight of our sins and guilt on the cross.

“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins…” (1 John 1:9)

Some of us are still carrying guilt like extra baggage—dragging it from one season of life to another. But the resurrection declares: you don’t have to carry that anymore.

As Max Lucado said, “God loves you just the way you are, but He refuses to leave you that way.”

The resurrection lifts the weight of guilt and replaces it with grace.

2. Hope becomes our perspective.

Let’s be honest—the resurrection doesn’t eliminate every problem. It doesn’t promise that life will always be easy. But it does change how we see everything.

As Victor Hugo wrote, “Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.”

Because of Easter, we live with hope:

  • Hope for healing
  • Hope for restoration
  • Hope for second chances
  • Hope that God is still at work

We may not always feel optimistic—but we can always be hopeful.

3. Serving becomes our mission.

The resurrection is not just about life after death—it’s about life before death.

As N. T. Wright reminds us, God’s plan is not to snatch people out of earth, but to bring the life of heaven into it.

We are saved for something.

Resurrection people are called to:

  • Love boldly
  • Serve faithfully
  • Live purposefully

As Walter Brueggemann puts it, resurrection life is about aligning ourselves with God’s newness and purpose.

4. Heaven becomes our home.

Jesus said, “I go to prepare a place for you.”

The resurrection reminds us that death is not the end—it is a doorway.

It teaches us not only how to live, but how to face the end of life with faith instead of fear.

There is a quiet confidence that comes from Easter:
A confidence that says, “This world is not all there is.”

Because of the resurrection, we can live under the governance of heaven here and now, and there and then.

5. Jesus becomes personal to us…not just me, but all of us.

Mary didn’t recognize Jesus at first. She thought He was the gardener.

But then He spoke her name: “Mary.”

And in that moment, everything changed.

The resurrection is not just theological—it is personal. Jesus still calls names. He still meets us in our grief. He still turns confusion into clarity.

The resurrection factor means this: the risen Christ knows you, sees you, and calls you by name.

Brennan Manning once said, “The most radical demand of Christian faith is to say yes to the present risenness of Jesus Christ.”  I like that term “present risenness.” Not just in history—but in your life.

The resurrection transformed life on this planet more than any other event or experience in history.

It changes how we see our past (forgiven),
our present (purposeful),
and our future (secure).

So let me ask you:
Why linger outside the tomb, looking for what used to be?
What in this world could keep you from stepping into the resurrection life?

Because the stone has been rolled away.
The tomb is empty.
And Jesus is alive.

And that changes everything.

Following the Footsteps of Paulos: 10 Things We Learned About the Apostle Paul

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

In his first epistle to the Corinthians (11:1), Paul urged the believers to, “Follow my example, as I follow the example of Christ

There is something transformative about walking where the apostle Paul once walked—standing in the shadows of ancient cities, tracing the roads of his missionary journeys, and imagining the courage it took to carry the gospel into unfamiliar and often hostile places.

All the members of our travel group arrived home safely yesterday after our 12-day tour following the footsteps of Paul.

From Thessaloniki to Philippi, from Berea to Athens—and even reflecting on the missed opportunity to visit Ephesus and Patmos—this journey has deepened our understanding of Paul’s life, ministry, and message.

Here are ten things we learned about Paul while following in his footsteps:

1. Paul went where the people were.
In every city, Paul positioned himself where conversations were already happening—synagogues, marketplaces, and gathering places. In Areopagus (Mars Hill), he engaged philosophers in thoughtful dialogue (Acts 17).

Paul practiced the words of Jesus from Mark 16:15: “Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation.”

Paul reminds us that mission begins where people already are.

2. Paul adapted his approach without compromising his message.
In Jewish settings, Paul reasoned from Scripture. In Athens, he quoted Greek poets and connected with their worldview.

As John Stott once said, “We must be global Christians with a global vision because our God is a global God.”

Paul met people where they were—but always pointed them to Christ.

3. Paul faced opposition almost everywhere he went.
In Thessaloniki and Philippi, he encountered resistance, imprisonment, and persecution (Acts 16–17).

Perhaps it was because of experiences like this that Paul wrote to young Timothy, “Everyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted.” (II Timothy 3:12)

Faithfulness does not guarantee ease, but it does produce endurance.

4. Paul invested in people, not just places.
In Berea, he encountered believers who eagerly studied the Scriptures (Acts 17:11). His ministry was never about checking locations off a map—it was about nurturing lives.

The historian Will Durant once observed, “A great civilization is not conquered from without until it has destroyed itself from within.” Paul knew that transformed people shape transformed communities.

5. Paul trusted God in uncertain circumstances.
Whether traveling dangerous roads or enduring imprisonment, Paul moved forward in faith.

Paul believed that God’s presence and purpose were persistent. “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him.” (Romans 8:28)

Even when plans change—like our missed stops in Ephesus, Patmos, and Santorini—God’s purposes are still at work.

6. Paul proclaimed a bold and relevant gospel.
Standing in a culture filled with idols, Paul did not dilute the truth. But neither did he aim to offend. He dialogued with others at their point of need and their level of understanding. At Mars Hill, he proclaimed the one true God (Acts 17:24).

As C.S. Lewis wrote, “Christianity, if false, is of no importance, and if true, of infinite importance.”

Paul preached a gospel that invited deeper thought and an informed response.

7. Paul saw every city as a mission field.
From bustling ports to intellectual centers, Paul viewed each location as an opportunity. Athens, with all its philosophy and culture, was no exception.

David Livingstone later wrote, “Here is a plain truth: God calls us to go where He is not known.”

No place was too complex, too pagan, or too resistant.

8. Paul built bridges through common ground.
In Athens, Paul referenced an altar to an unknown god and used it as a starting point (Acts 17:23).

This approach reminds us that connection often precedes conversion.

9. Paul left a lasting legacy through his letters.
Though we could not walk the streets of Ephesus, Paul’s letter to the Ephesians continues to shape the church today. Whether writing from his sojourn or a prison cell, Paul’s correspondence was practical, contextual, and encouraging.

Although Paul did not know his correspondence would end up in the New Testament, Paul believed, “All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching…” (II Timothy 3:16)

Paul’s influence extends far beyond geography.

10. Paul’s life pointed others to Christ, not to himself.
Ultimately, Paul’s journey was never about Paul. It was about Jesus.

His daring perspective is summarized in his words, “For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.” (Philippians 1:21)

As Augustine of Hippo once said, “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.”

Although we had a few delays and cancellations during our coming and going, this journey was more than a tour—it has been a pilgrimage.

We have stood in ancient cities, traced sacred stories, and reflected on a man whose life was wholly surrendered to God’s mission. Even in the places we could not visit, like Ephesus, the impact of Paul’s ministry remains undeniable.

And perhaps that is the greatest lesson of all: Faithfulness is not measured by where you go, but by how fully you follow.

As we return home, may we carry Paul’s example with us as we aim to live boldly, love deeply, and encourage generously.

Although our journey has ended, our mission continues.

You can follow the journal of this journey at Ancient Footsteps: Highlights from Our Missionary Journeys of Paul Tour 2026.

“Lord, Have Mercy!”

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

A Lenten Devotional

“Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions.” -Psalm 51:1

In my growing-up years, I remember the elderly in our community and in my family saying, “Lawsy mercy!” whenever they heard about an accident or an illness or some sort of tragedy. In Southern Appalachia, “Lawsy mercy” was a common expression of concern or sympathy to surprising or troubling news. The saying was a derivative of the biblical phrase, “Lord, have mercy.”

The biblical version, however, packs a more powerful punch. It is one of the most ancient and enduring prayers of the Church and yet also one of the simplest: “Lord, have mercy” is a cry that rises from deep within the human heart, a prayer offered not from a place of strength, but from a place of need. During Lent, we are invited to slow down long enough to hear ourselves praying these words honestly, without defensiveness or disguise.

Historically, the prayer Kyrie eleison (“Lord, have mercy”) was spoken not only in worship but also in moments of desperation. During the Black Death of the 14th century, entire communities processed through the streets chanting this plea, not as a magical formula, but as an act of trust when answers were few and suffering was overwhelming. The prayer acknowledged a hard truth: human effort has limits, but God’s mercy does not.

Lent helps us rediscover that truth. It reminds us that mercy is not something we earn through self-denial or religious effort. Mercy is something we receive when we finally stop pretending we don’t need it. To ask for mercy is not only to confess our shortcomings, but to practice humility. It is to recognize that grace, not perfection, is the foundation of our relationship with God.

The reformer Martin Luther once wrote, Those words were found scribbled on a scrap of paper after his death. They capture the spirit of Lent beautifully. No matter how accomplished, faithful, or disciplined we may be, we remain people in need of daily, ongoing, and undeserved mercy.

Echoing this posture of trust, Thomas Merton proposed, “Mercy is the kindness that makes sense of our failures.” Lent does not deny our brokenness. It places it gently in the hands of a merciful God who knows us fully and loves us completely.

To pray “Lord, have mercy” is a way to open ourselves to transformation. Mercy does not merely forgive the past; it reshapes the future. As we receive mercy, we are invited to extend mercy to ourselves, to our neighbors, and even to those we struggle to love.

This Lent, let that simple prayer rest on your lips and in your heart. Not as a sign of defeat, but as an act of hope. For the God who meets us in mercy is already at work, healing what is wounded and restoring what feels lost.

So today, as we pray for ourselves and for our world, may we begin “Lord, have mercy!”

Open My Eyes, Lord

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

A Lenten Devotional from Psalm 119:17-24 (NIV)

17 Be good to your servant while I live,
    that I may obey your word.
18 Open my eyes that I may see
    wonderful things in your law.
19 I am a stranger on earth;
    do not hide your commands from me.
20 My soul is consumed with longing
    for your laws at all times.
21 You rebuke the arrogant, who are accursed,
    those who stray from your commands.
22 Remove from me their scorn and contempt,
    for I keep your statutes.
23 Though rulers sit together and slander me,
    your servant will meditate on your decrees.
24 Your statutes are my delight;
    they are my counselors.   Psalm 119:17-24 (NIV)


When I visited my optometrist for my annual eye exam, he said, “Your vision has changed a little. We need to update your prescription for your glasses.”  I knew it would happen one day. I’ve had the same prescription for almost 7 years.

Sight is extremely important. Maybe that is why the psalmist prayed, “Open my eyes that I may see wonderful things in your law” (v.18). However, I don’t think the psalmist was referring to the ability to see the smallest letters on the vision test chart.

Just as eyesight gives us the capacity to see the physical world around us, things like hindsight, foresight, and insight give us the capacity to better understand God’s word, to shape our faith perspectives, to formulate our worldview, and to exercise wisdom and discernment in our decision-making.

Helen Keller contended, “The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision.”

Lent is an eye-opening season where the Spirit helps us better understand our purpose in life as we revisit the story of Jesus, who fully embodied God’s universal mission.

The psalmist wanted the eyes and minds of worshippers to be wide open as they pursue a deeper understanding of God’s vision for the world. The petitioner prayed, “Cause me to understand the way of your precepts, that I may meditate on your wonderful deeds.”

After the eye exam, my optometrist gave me my new prescription and advised me to upgrade to progressive lenses. For years, I had worn bifocals, mostly for reading. He cautioned that the change from bifocals to progressive lenses would require a period of adjustment. “You need to be especially careful when walking because your depth perception will be a little different.”

I have discovered that every new flicker of insight or morsel of wisdom requires a period of adjustment as I apply it to life. May our understanding of God’s word encourage and equip us to follow God’s ways.

Reflection:

How does God communicate new insights to you? Do you welcome new points of view or are you inclined to resist changes in your understanding? How easily can you move from stale presuppositions and open your mind to fresh insights from God’s word?

Prayer:

Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art;
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night;
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light. (Eleanor H. Hull, Mary E. Byrne)

The Thomas Confession: Dealing with Honest Questions About Faith

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

If you have ever experienced doubts or been skeptical about matters of faith and religion, you are not alone. Frederick Buechner said, “Doubts are the ants in the pants of faith. They keep it awake and moving.”

In some religious circles, however, faith and doubt are often treated as opposites, as though one cancels out the other. In such settings, doubt is viewed with suspicion, as though it is sinful, something to be hidden, hurried past, or quietly resolved before it becomes disruptive. Yet the Christian story tells a different truth. Faith is not fragile. It is resilient, examined, and durable. It can withstand questions, doubts, and honest inquiry.

One of the most ancient and instructive examples of this kind of faith is found in John 20:24-29 in the confession of Thomas. Often labeled “Doubting Thomas,” he may be better understood as “Truth-Seeking Thomas.” When the other disciples announce that they have seen the risen Christ, Thomas responds with remarkable honesty: unless he can see and touch the wounds himself, he cannot believe. Rather than rebuking him, Jesus invites Thomas to examine the evidence. The result is one of the strongest confessions of faith in all of Scripture: “My Lord and my God.”

Thomas reminds us that faith does not always arrive fully formed. For many, belief is born through the labor pains of honest inquiry. And, somewhat ironically, once faith takes root, it often generates more curiosity, not less. Authentic faith refuses to settle for slogan-like answers to deep and uncomfortable questions.

In the twentieth century, physicist and theologian Ian Barbour challenged the popular notion that science and faith must exist in conflict. Barbour insisted that his Christian faith made him a better scientist, not a lesser one—more curious, more rigorous, and more attentive to mystery. His work opened space for thoughtful dialogue rather than shallow debate. Like Thomas, Barbour understood that truth does not fear examination.

Consider how we make important decisions today—medical diagnoses, financial investments, or even choosing a school for our children. We do our due diligence. We ask questions. We examine evidence. We seek trusted sources. Rarely do we accept life-altering claims without investigation. Yet when it comes to matters of faith, some are told to suspend curiosity and simply “believe.” Thomas pushes back against that false choice. He models a faith that engages both heart and mind.

The New Testament consistently affirms this kind of integrated faith. Hebrews describes faith as “the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” Substance and evidence belong together. The gospel should never be proclaimed through emotional manipulation or social intimidation, but with truthfulness and grace, trusting the Spirit to do the deeper work of conversion.

Buechner captures this balance well when he suggests, “Faith is not being sure where you’re going, but going anyway.” Thomas did not begin with certainty; he began with courage, the courage to ask, to seek, and to stay in community even when belief felt incomplete.

Importantly, the story does not end in the locked room. Early Christian tradition holds that Thomas carried the gospel far beyond the boundaries of the Roman Empire, eventually reaching India. According to ancient sources, communities of believers there trace their origins to his witness. The disciple who once demanded evidence became a missionary whose faith changed lives across continents. Doubt did not disqualify him; it refined him.

Faith stories are life stories. The chapters already written matter, but the chapters still unfolding may prove the most significant. Like Thomas, we are invited not to silence our questions, but to bring them into the presence of Christ. There, doubt can become confession, and inquiry can give way to trust.

Navigating faith and doubts is a challenge in every generation. Yet Jesus still meets seekers where they are, with all their doubts, wounds, and questions.

If you have trouble believing in God, maybe it’s not God you have trouble believing, but the various misrepresentations of God. If you have problems believing in Jesus, perhaps it’s not Jesus you have a problem with, but the many counterfeit faces of Jesus that appear in the church and in the world. Examine the biblical account. Consider the life and teachings of Jesus. Probe the evidence, and you may just discover what you are seeking.

(This column is based on a sermon titled “The Thomas Confession” that I shared at the First Baptist Church of Pensacola on January 5, 2014.)

Recovering the Lost Art of Pondering

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

In Luke’s telling of the Christmas story, there is a quiet line that is easy to overlook amid angels, shepherds, and songs of praise. Twice, Luke pauses the action to tell us something about Mary: “Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart” (Luke 2:19; see also Luke 2:51). While others hurried home or returned to their fields, Mary lingered. She pondered.

That single word—pondered—feels almost foreign in our hurried world. We are far more practiced at reacting, scrolling, multitasking, and moving on. We skim headlines, rush conversations, and measure productivity by speed. Pondering, by contrast, requires stillness. It asks us to slow down, to contemplate the significance of an experience rather than rush to explain or resolve it.

Mary’s pondering was not passive or sentimental. It was intentional. She had just given birth under uncertain circumstances, welcomed unexpected visitors, and heard astonishing claims about her child. None of it neatly fit together. Rather than forcing quick conclusions, Mary gathered these moments and carried them within her, trusting that meaning would unfold over time.

In this sense, pondering is an act of faith. It resists the pressure to have immediate answers. It allows mystery to remain mystery. As the poet Rainer Maria Rilke once advised, “Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.” Mary lived the questions.

Scripture suggests this practice. The psalmist urges, “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). The prophet Isaiah writes, “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and trust shall be your strength” (Isaiah 30:15). Pondering is not withdrawal from life but a deeper engagement with it—one rooted in attentiveness and trust.

Historically, this kind of reflection was once considered a spiritual discipline. Early monastics spoke of ruminatio, the slow, prayerful chewing on scripture, much like a cow chewing cud. Lectio divina, still practiced today, invites readers not to rush through sacred words but to linger over them until they sink from the mind into the heart. Wisdom, they believed, comes not from volume of information but from depth of attention.

Our fast-paced culture rarely encourages such depth. We are trained to move on quickly, to optimize time, to fill every quiet moment with noise. Even joy is rushed. We snap pictures instead of absorbing the moment, post updates instead of savoring experiences. In the process, we risk missing the meaning woven into our days.

Recovering the lost art of pondering does not require retreating to a monastery. It begins with small, intentional pauses. It might mean sitting with a scripture instead of rushing to the next task, reflecting on a conversation long after it ends, or resisting the urge to explain away an experience that feels unresolved. It means permitting ourselves to say, “I don’t fully understand this yet, and that’s okay.”

Pondering also changes how we listen to others. When we slow down enough to treasure their stories rather than rush to respond, relationships deepen. When we hold moments with care instead of judgment, gratitude grows. Life becomes less about accumulation and more about attentiveness.

Mary’s example reminds us that some truths cannot be grasped in haste. They must be held, revisited, and trusted. The child she pondered would grow, teach, heal, and redeem. But for now, Mary simply treasured what she had been given.

Perhaps this season, and every season, invites us to do the same. To recover the lost art of pondering is to reclaim space for wonder, wisdom, and faith to take root. In a world that urges us to hurry, pondering becomes a quiet act of resistance, and a sacred practice for the living of these days.

(This column is a revision of a Wednesday night devotional I shared at the First Baptist Church of Pensacola in December 2008.)

Four Voices, One Holy Mystery: The Gift of Multiple Perspectives on the Christmas Story from the Gospels

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The Christmas story is so familiar that we sometimes forget it comes to us through more than one gospel writer’s perspective. Nativity scenes blend shepherds and angels, wise men and a star, Mary and Joseph and a manger into a single display. Yet when we turn to the Gospels, we discover that each writer tells the story from a distinct perspective, or, in one case, chooses not to tell it at all. These different viewpoints do not compete with one another; they enrich our understanding of the mystery of the birth of Jesus.

Matthew: Christmas Through the Lens of Lineage

Matthew’s Gospel tells the Christmas story with one eye firmly fixed on Israel’s scriptures. Written for a largely Jewish audience, Matthew frames Jesus’ birth as the fulfillment of ancient promises. The genealogy of Jesus traces his lineage back through Abraham and David, anchoring the story in God’s covenant history.

Matthew highlights Joseph’s experience, including the angelic dream, the struggle to do what is right, and the costly obedience that follows. The visit of the Magi, the guiding star, and the flight into Egypt all echo Israel’s past, reminding readers that God is continuing a long and faithful story. Matthew invites us to see Christmas as God keeping promises, even when fulfillment of those promises arrives in unexpected ways.

Luke: Christmas as Music for Those on the Margins

Luke’s Gospel is steeped in joy and wonder. Angels sing, the lowly are lifted up, and good news is announced to those on the margins. By focusing on women, the poor, and the powerless, Luke reminds us that the birth of Jesus is good news for all people. His perspective teaches us that Christmas is not just about God entering history, but about God drawing near to those who feel forgotten.

If Matthew emphasizes heritage, Luke emphasizes inclusion of those on the fringes. Luke’s account is the most detailed and the most tender. He gives voice to Mary’s song, Zechariah’s prophecy, and the angels’ proclamation to shepherds, who were ordinary laborers often overlooked by society.

John: Christmas as Cosmic Mystery

Just as Matthew’s gospel comes from a more Jewish perspective and Luke’s narrative is more melodic, John’s version is more philosophical. The writer offers no manger, no shepherds, and no Bethlehem journey. Instead, he begins his Gospel with a soaring theological hymn: “In the beginning was the Word…” For John, Christmas is not primarily a story about where Jesus was born, but about who Jesus is.

By proclaiming that “the Word became flesh and lived among us” (John 1:14), John invites readers to contemplate the cosmic significance of the incarnation. Christmas, in this telling, is the moment when eternal light enters human darkness.

John’s use of the ”Word,” which is translated from “Logos,” meaning “reason” or “being,” or perhaps “the reason for being.” helps us see the nativity not only as a historical event, but as a divine mystery that reshapes all of reality.

Mark: Christmas Silence That Speaks

Mark, the earliest Gospel, says nothing about Jesus’ birth at all. He begins with Jesus’ public ministry, moving swiftly and urgently toward the cross. This absence is not an oversight; it is a theological choice.

The silence of Mark on the birth narrative invites us to focus not on sentiment, but on essence. Mark’s focus is on the earthly ministry of Jesus and the teachings of Jesus. Christmas, from this angle, calls us not just to wonder, but to follow those teachings and to align our lives with Jesus’ initiatives.

Taken together, the four Gospels offer a fuller, richer portrait of Christ’s coming than any single account could provide. Much like four sportswriters covering an athletic event from four different seats in the stadium, these biblical writers present the story from the view they’ve been given.

Matthew grounds us in God’s faithfulness, Luke draws us into God’s compassion, John lifts our eyes to God’s mystery, and Mark keeps us focused on God’s mission.

In a world shaped by differing viewpoints, the Gospels remind us that truth is often best seen through multiple lenses. The Christmas story is not diminished by its varied tellings; it is deepened. Each voice adds texture, meaning, and insight to the good news that God is with us.

As we revisit the story year after year, perhaps we are invited to listen again with fresh ears. By contemplating each Gospel’s perspective, we discover that the light of Christmas shines more brilliantly when seen from the whole prism.

(This column is a revision of a Wednesday night message I shared at the First Baptist Church of Pensacola in 2009.)

12 Things We All Need to Hear on Christmas Eve

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

Christmas Eve Services are sacred and joyful occasions. Churches and chapels fill with familiar carols and flickering candles, but they also fill with people carrying complex stories—joy and grief, gratitude and loss, faith and questions. On this holy night, words matter. What people hear can steady a weary heart or open a door to hope.

Over the years, I’ve been a part of dozens of Christmas Eve services, most of which have been inspiring and encouraging. I’ve also been to a few that were…Well, let’s just say they were lacking.

Here are twelve things people need to hear on Christmas Eve—truths that echo from the original Christmas story and still speak powerfully today.

1. You are welcome here. Christmas Eve is not a private gathering for insiders. It is a wide-open invitation. Whether someone comes weekly or once a year, confident or uncertain, hopeful or hurting, the message is the same: You belong.

2. “Unto us a child is born.” Most importantly, we need to hear the scripture story. The Christ who was born in Bethlehem is God’s gift for you, for me, and for all of us. The good news is not for a select group of people, but for all people from all nations, all races, and all walks of life.

3. “Fear not!” The first words spoken by the angel on the first Christmas were not instructions or expectations—they were reassurance. Fear not. Those words still matter in a world anxious about health, relationships, finances, violence, and the future. Christmas begins with comfort.

4. Christmas brings good news…tidings of great joy. This joy of Christmas is not shallow cheer or forced happiness. It is good news that God has not abandoned the world. Joy is possible even when circumstances are difficult because God has “become flesh and moved into the neighborhood” (John 1:14 MSG)

5. It’s okay to feel joy and sorrow at the same time. For many, Christmas is layered with grace and grief. Christmas Eve gives permission to hold both realities at once. You don’t have to choose between honesty and hope. The manger holds space for both.

6. God meets us exactly where we are. The Christmas story unfolds not in a palace, but in borrowed space. God did not wait for ideal conditions. In the same way, God meets us not where we wish we were, but right where we are.

7. You are not alone. Emmanuel means “God with us.” Christmas is the announcement that God has chosen presence over distance. Emmanuel is not an abstract idea; it is a promise that we are accompanied through all of life, including uncertainty, grief, joy, and change.

8. God comes near to us, even in messy and uncertain circumstances. The birth of Jesus happened amid disruption, displacement, and danger. That should comfort us. God is not deterred by our chaos. Divine love enters the world as it is, not as we wish it to be.

9. You can experience the peace of Christ, even if every conflict isn’t resolved. Peace does not require that everything be fixed. The peace Christ brings is deeper than resolution—it is the steady assurance of God’s nearness in the midst of unresolved tensions.

10. The darkness will not have the final word. The Christmas star that guided those seeking the Christ child reminds us that night may surround the nativity, but it does not overcome it. Christmas declares that light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot extinguish it. This is not denial of hardship; it is defiance of despair.

11. The birth narrative is just the beginning. The story does not end at the manger. It continues through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, and it continues still. God is at work in the world and in our lives, shaping a story not yet finished.

12. Like Mary, we can ponder and treasure these things in our hearts. Christmas Eve does not demand immediate understanding or action. It invites reflection. Wonder. Quiet trust. Sometimes the holiest response is simply to hold the mystery close and let it work on us over time.

Christmas Eve is not about having all the answers. It is about receiving a gift. A child born in humility. A love that embraces us unconditionally. A light that shines gently but persistently into the darkest places.

These are the things people need to hear, not just on Christmas Eve, but in the days that follow as the Light of Christmas helps to navigate the daily grind of life.

Curious About Christmas: 10 Things You Might Want to Know

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

Christmas is one of the most beloved and most familiar celebrations in the world. However, some wonder about the cultural and spiritual reasons behind the various traditions we embrace during this season.

Throughout my years of serving as a pastor, I’ve been asked quite a few questions about Christmas. Some were mentioned out of mere curiosity, and others were asked with a profound sense of theological inquiry. I readily knew the answer to a few of the questions, and others I had to investigate.

Here are ten of the more common Christmas questions, with answers that may surprise you.

1. What is the most popular Christmas carol? Across cultures and denominations, “Silent Night” is widely regarded as the most beloved Christmas carol in the world. First sung in 1818 in a small Austrian church, it has been translated into hundreds of languages and is cherished for its simplicity, reverence, and peaceful theology. Its enduring appeal lies in how poetically it tells the Christmas story.

2. When did the celebration of Christmas first begin in the United States? The first Christmas celebration in the US occurred in 1539 in Tallahassee, Florida at Mission San Luis. Christmas was not widely celebrated in early America. In fact, Puritans in New England actively opposed it, viewing it as unbiblical and overly indulgent. Christmas gradually gained acceptance in the 1800s and became a federal holiday in 1870, thanks in part to changing cultural attitudes and waves of European immigrants.

3. When did our current representation of Santa Claus begin? The modern image of Santa Claus emerged in the 19th century. Clement Clarke Moore’s 1823 poem “A Visit from St. Nicholas” (better known as “’Twas the Night Before Christmas”) shaped Santa as a jolly, gift-giving figure. Later, illustrator Thomas Nast and 20th-century advertising (especially Coca-Cola campaigns) cemented the red-suited Santa we recognize today.

4. Are Christmas trees evil? How did the Christmas tree become a part of the celebration? No. Christmas trees are not evil or satanic. The tradition of decorating evergreen trees began in Germany during the 16th century. German immigrants brought the custom to America in the 1800s. Evergreens symbolized life in the midst of winter, which celebrates hope and light entering a dark world.

5. What is the highest-grossing Christmas movie of all time? The highest grossing Christmas movie of all time:  When the Grinch Stole Christmas at $260 million.  (Jim Carrey version).  2nd is Polar Express at $183 million.

6. When was Jesus born? It is highly unlikely that Jesus was born on December 25. The Bible does not give an exact date for Jesus’ birth. Most scholars agree that Jesus was likely born between 6 and 4 B.C. Jesus was more likely born in the spring. The December 25 celebration developed later, which was a way to emphasize Christ as the “Light of the World” rather than pinpointing a historical date.

7. How many wise men were there? Many assume that there were 3 Wise Men since there were 3 gifts, but the Bible doesn’t provide the number of Wise Men who made the journey.  The Wise Men did not see the “babe in a manger” because they arrived after he was presented in the temple…anywhere from 13 days to about 2 years following the birth of Jesus.

8. Why was Jesus born in Bethlehem? Bethlehem was the city of King David, giving the story messianic significance. The prophet Micah foretold that a ruler would come from Bethlehem (Micah 5:2). Jesus’ birth there highlights God’s tendency to work through humble places to accomplish divine purposes.

9. Why do some people use “Xmas” instead of “Christmas”? “Xmas” is not a modern attempt to remove Christ from Christmas. The “X” comes from the Greek letter Chi, the first letter in Christos (Christ). Early Christians used it as a sacred abbreviation long before it appeared on greeting cards.

10. What does the word “holiday” actually mean? The word “holiday” is a good and positive word that comes from holy day. It originally referred to days set apart for religious observance. While the meaning has broadened, Christmas remains a true holy day, a festive occasion marked by carols and candles, worship and wonder, generosity and joy.

Christmas is more than a season of tradition. Our celebration of Christmas originates from a story of good news layered with history, meaning, and mystery. Asking questions doesn’t diminish the celebration. Rather, questions deepen our appreciation and understanding.

And at the heart of every answer is the same enduring truth: “The Word became flesh and moved into the neighborhood.” (John 1:14 MSG)

(This column is a revision of a Wednesday night devotional I shared at the First Baptist Church of Pensacola in December 2015.)

The Ongoing Challenge of Learning Contentment

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

Of all the spiritual disciplines, I think that contentment may be the toughest to learn. The challenge is ongoing.

It isn’t that I don’t want to be content—I do. It’s that we live in a world wired to keep us restless. A consumerist economy whispers that the next upgrade, the newest version, or the latest device will finally deliver satisfaction. At the same time, my own temperament nudges me toward constant evaluation: fix what is broken, mend what is fractured, restore what has fallen apart. Those instincts aren’t wrong, but they can easily pull my soul out of rhythm.

That’s why the apostle Paul’s words feel both comforting and challenging: “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances” (Philippians 4:11). Contentment, Paul reminds us, is something learned—not instantly acquired, not naturally absorbed, but gradually shaped through trust and practice.

G. K. Chesterton observed, “True contentment is a real, active virtue—not a passive or timid acceptance of things as they are.” His words help me remember that contentment isn’t complacency. It is the courageous decision to embrace this moment with gratitude rather than wait for the perfect one.

Many people now take pictures with their phones using filters—adjusting brightness, warmth, and contrast to create a more polished version of reality. Contentment works in the opposite direction. Instead of filtering our lives to hide imperfections, contentment allows us to see clearly, without distortion. It shifts the focus from what is missing to what is meaningful, helping us recognize beauty in what we already have.

At its core, contentment is a commitment to simplicity. It rearranges my priorities so that my mission becomes primary, and the tangible resources in my portfolio become tools rather than trophies—means rather than measurements. When I practice contentment, life no longer feels like an expanding inventory but an emerging story.

Something transformative happens in that shift. Relationships rise to the forefront, while possessions return to their rightful place. People become essential; stuff becomes expendable. My life becomes more like a conduit than a reservoir—a channel through which blessings flow freely into the lives of others, not a storage unit where blessings are archived, counted, and guarded.

To live with contentment, I must return again and again to one foundational truth: my self-worth is neither inflated nor deflated by my net worth. My value does not hinge on what I own, what I accomplish, or what others think of me. My identity is rooted in something deeper and more enduring—worth that was instilled and endowed by my Creator.

Contentment, then, is not resignation. It is not passive acceptance. It is the steady confidence that God’s grace is sufficient in this moment, this season, this chapter—whatever it may hold. It is the quiet courage to trust that I already have what I need to live gratefully and faithfully today.

I’m still learning this discipline. Perhaps you are, too. But each day offers a new lesson, a fresh reminder, and a renewed opportunity to loosen our grip on accumulation and tighten our embrace of gratitude.