The Courage to Be Curious

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Matthew 7:7 — Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you.

High school has rules.

No, not the ones printed in the handbook. Those are easy. You can read them and follow them.

I mean the other rules.

The ones everybody seems to know without anybody ever explaining them.

You sit with your people at lunch. You wear clothes that fit your crowd. Athletes hang out with athletes. Band kids hang out with band kids. Theater kids stick together.

Eventually, you learn where you belong, and you get pretty good at staying there.

They’re not written down anywhere, but you know the rules.

Until one morning when something strange happens.

The football player stands beside the quiet kid from chemistry.

The popular girl prays with the freshman nobody knows.

Students from different churches—and students with no church at all—end up standing around the same flagpole.

Every year, See You at the Pole has a way of bringing people together.

Some students come because they love Jesus. Some come because a friend asked them. Others are just curious.

And if you didn’t know, God has a thing for curious people.

Think about it.

Zacchaeus climbed a tree because he wanted to see Jesus. People followed Jesus because they wanted to know who He was. Again and again, people took a step closer because something about Jesus made them curious.

And that’s what I love about Jesus’ words in Matthew 7: “Keep on asking. Keep on seeking. Keep on knocking.”

He doesn’t tell us to pretend we already have everything figured out.

He invites us to come closer.

Ask questions.

Seek Him.

Knock on the door.

You see, curiosity can be a beautiful thing.

Sometimes it’s simply the courage to step outside what feels familiar and move toward something you don’t fully understand.

And you really can’t imagine what God might do with one small moment of curiosity.

So, if you’re planning to be at See You at the Pole, don’t just pray for your school.

Pray for the person standing on the edge of the crowd, wondering if they should walk over.

Pray for the student who is curious but nervous.

Pray for the one who doesn’t know exactly what they believe yet.

Because sometimes the first step toward Jesus is simply being willing to ask a question.

So maybe today, break a few of those unwritten rules.

Step outside your usual circle.

Walk toward someone who feels alone.

And if you’re the one standing on the edge, wondering whether you belong there, take a step closer.

Ask.

Seek.

Knock.

You never know what God might do with your curiosity.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Are there “unwritten rules” or social circles in your life that keep you from reaching out to certain people?
  • Have you ever been curious about Jesus but hesitant to take the next step? What held you back?
  • What question about God or faith have you been afraid to ask?
  • Who might be standing “on the edge of the crowd” in your school, workplace, church, or community? How could you make room for them?
  • What would it look like for you today to ask, seek, or knock—to take one small step closer to Jesus?
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Don’t Rehearse The Regret

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2 Corinthians 10:5 — We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ.

There I was, minding my own business, and suddenly I got assaulted by my past.

All I wanted was a nice, quiet morning… but instead, I was left reliving the time I face-planted down the stairs in middle school.

It doesn’t stop there.

I get up and head to work, hoping music will drown it out, but nope. I’m replaying that conversation I completely fumbled three years ago.

By the time I arrive at the office, I sit at my desk and try to push through the project in front of me, but I’m distracted again. This time by the joke I made to my boss that made me look like an idiot.

Why do I do that?

Can you relate?

We often think of anxiety as fear of the future, but sometimes, it’s the past that grips us just as tightly. If we’re not careful, those memories can begin to shape how we live moving forward.

Anxiety can cripple us. It can affect our daily interactions and hold us back from being who Christ created us to be.

Scripture tells us to take every thought captive and bring it to Christ. That doesn’t mean we’ll never have painful thoughts or memories again. It means learning to recognize the thoughts that keep pulling us backward, bring them to Christ, and refuse to let them run the show.

When Christ died for us, He didn’t just offer forgiveness for our sin. He also gives us freedom from the condemnation and shame that can keep us trapped in our past.

The memories may still exist. The regret may still surface. The painful moments may still come to mind. But in Christ, they don’t have to control us.

They can be shadows, not chains.

That’s why the old hymn tells us to turn our eyes toward Jesus and look fully into His wonderful face. In the light of His glorious grace, the things that once seemed so big begin to grow strangely dim.

So, what if today, when that old memory comes back, you don’t rehearse it all over again?

What if, instead, you bring it to Jesus and look at Him?

His grace is bigger than the version of your past that keeps trying to resurrect itself.

Because in Christ, there isn’t just forgiveness for our past.

There is freedom from it.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What past memory, regret, or painful thought do you find yourself replaying most often?
  • When that thought comes back, what does it make you believe about yourself, your past, or your future?
  • What would it look like to take that thought captive and bring it honestly to Jesus instead of rehearsing it again?
  • Are there places where shame or regret from your past is still influencing the way you live today?
  • What truth about Jesus and His grace do you need to remember the next time your past tries to pull you backward?

L Y R I C S

Turn your eyes upon Jesus
Look full in His wonderful face
And the things of earth
Will grow strangely dim
In the light of His glory and grace

Words and Music by Helen Lemmel

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More Than a Change of Clothes

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Titus 3:4-5 — When God our Savior revealed his kindness and love, He saved us, not because of the righteous things we had done, but because of His mercy. He washed away our sins, giving us a new birth and new life through the Holy Spirit.

I knew immediately that walking through the front door was probably a bad idea.

You see, I had fallen in the mud, but I had spare clothes in my car. So, I changed shirts and pants, brushed myself off as best I could, and figured Mom would never know.

I was wrong.

Three steps inside, and Mom already had the cleaning bucket in her hand. The scowl on her face told me she knew exactly what had happened. Apparently, changing clothes hadn’t made me clean as much as I hoped it would.

The mud was still on my hands, my legs, and my shoes. I tracked dirt across the floor and left smudges on everything I touched. The fresh clothes only hid the problem. They didn’t solve it.

And I think we do something similar with God.

We try to manage the outside. We clean up our language, go to church more, pray harder, and avoid the “big” sins for a while. We try to cover our guilt with good works, hoping that if we look good enough on the outside, we can somehow hide what’s still messy underneath.

But good works were never meant to save us. They are a response to the salvation we’ve already received—not a way to earn it.

Changing clothes doesn’t wash mud off your skin. And trying harder doesn’t cleanse a sinful heart.

That’s why the gospel is such good news.

Titus reminds us that God’s kindness didn’t appear because we had finally cleaned ourselves up. He saved us because of His mercy. He washed us, renewed us, and gave us new life through the Holy Spirit.

We couldn’t make ourselves clean. So God did for us what we could never do for ourselves.

Jesus doesn’t stand at the door waiting for us to become presentable. No, He steps into the mess.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Where are you tempted to “change clothes”—to clean up the outside—rather than allow God to deal with what’s happening in your heart?
  • What good things do you sometimes rely on to make yourself feel acceptable to God? How does Titus 3:4–5 challenge that way of thinking?
  • How does it change the way you see God when you remember that He saved you because of His mercy, not because you had finally gotten your life together?
  • Is there an area of your life where you feel like you need to become “presentable” before coming to Jesus? What would it look like to bring that mess to Him instead?
  • How might receiving God’s mercy and new life change the way you extend mercy to someone else today?
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The Pain That Grew You

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John 15:1-2 — I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in me that does not bear fruit He takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit.

Hindsight really is twenty-twenty.

It’s funny how we sometimes laugh about things we once cried over. Moments that felt overwhelming, personal, and devastating can eventually become stories we tell around the dinner table.

One of my earliest memories is throwing a full-blown tantrum over a hot dog. I wanted to squeeze the mustard on it myself, but my mom beat me to it. I was furious. Kicking, flailing, acting like the world had ended.

Little Brendan felt like his soul had been assassinated.

Big Brendan doesn’t even keep mustard in his fridge.

A lot of our problems are like that. Time gives us perspective, and what once felt enormous can eventually look surprisingly small.

But not every problem is a hot dog.

Some wounds alter the course of your life. Some losses take years to heal. Some pain runs so deep that nobody wants to bring it up around the dinner table.

And in those seasons, we can misunderstand the hand of our Father.

Jesus says, “I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener.” He tells us that the gardener prunes the branches so they can bear more fruit.

Pruning isn’t always easy to understand while it’s happening. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes we can’t see what God is doing—or why He’s allowing us to walk through something so painful.

But we can trust the Gardener.

God isn’t trying to destroy you. He is faithful to work in you, even in the places that hurt. He can take what feels broken and use it to grow something beautiful. He doesn’t waste our pain. He can redeem it, repurpose it, and use it to draw us closer to Him.

Maybe someday you’ll look back and see things differently. Not because the pain didn’t matter, but because God met you in it—and changed how you carried it.

The same God who is with you in the pruning is the God who will bring forth new growth.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Is there a painful season in your life that you still don’t understand?
  • Where might God be growing something in you through that experience?
  • What would it look like today to trust the Gardener, even when you can’t yet see what He’s doing?
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Freedom from Fake Living

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Ephesians 2:10 — For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things He planned for us long ago.

The burnt Pop-Tart should have annoyed me.

Normally, it would’ve.

But that morning, I didn’t care enough to notice. It was the least of my worries.

Seventh grade had been a rough year. So this plate that should have been bursting with flavor actually reminded me that I hadn’t smiled in a long time.

That year, I joined the football team, went to dances, and got a new phone. But something had changed in me.

I remember rehearsing conversations in the shower and anxiously imagining scenarios that hadn’t even happened. I wasn’t playing sports because I loved them. I wanted people to like me.

I wasn’t being myself.

I was trying to be someone else.

That was the first time I didn’t want to be me.

I had always been a happy-go-lucky, nerdy kid, but suddenly that didn’t feel good enough. The harder I tried to become someone else, the more frustrated and disappointed I became.

I could never measure up to the person I thought I needed to be.

What changed everything was Jesus.

He didn’t offer me a better mask or a few motivational phrases.

He gave me life.

Over time, He showed me that trying to become someone God never created me to be will always leave me exhausted, disappointed, and lost.

Long before I was chasing someone else’s approval, God had already created me with purpose. Scripture says we are God’s masterpiece, created anew in Christ to do the good things He planned for us.

I didn’t have to earn an identity.

I only had to receive it.

Jesus gave me a joy that brought out the real me—the goofy, nerdy person He made.

And that’s what I love about this verse. God doesn’t just call us His masterpiece; He gives our lives purpose. He created us intentionally, and He has good things for us to do.

Following Christ frees us from the pressure of performance.

Performance says, “Become enough.”

Grace says, “Become who I’ve made you to be.”

The simple truth is, God made you on purpose. There is no substitute for who He created you to be.

If you’ve been striving to become someone else, maybe it’s time to stop performing and start trusting the One who knew who you were before you ever wondered if you were enough.

You don’t have to become somebody else to be valuable.

You don’t have to perform to be loved.

You can simply become who God created you to be—and then let Him use your life for the good things He planned long ago.

There is no need to fake what’s real.

Follow Jesus.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When have you felt pressure to become someone you’re not?
  • What does it mean to you that God calls you His “masterpiece”?
  • Whose approval are you most tempted to seek?
  • What part of yourself have you been tempted to hide or change?
  • What good thing might God be inviting you to do with the person He created you to be?
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Where Sorrow Meets the Savior

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Isaiah 53:3 — He was despised and rejected— a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief. We turned our backs on him and looked the other way. He was despised, and we did not care.

She could barely make out the American flag on her porch through the tears streaming down her face.

Fifteen years after her husband was killed in the Iraq War, some mornings the red, white, and blue still blurred together outside her window as grief washed over her all over again.

She wasn’t alone. A faithful church community sat beside her in the silence. A skilled therapist helped her navigate the waves of sorrow. Friends from the neighborhood pickleball court made her laugh on the better days.

But when the house grew quiet, one truth remained:

He was gone.

Loss has a way of reminding us that there are some wounds nothing in this world can fully heal. No amount of success, security, or distraction can fill the empty chair at the table or erase the ache of someone deeply loved.

That’s why the hope of Jesus matters so much.

He isn’t distant from suffering.

Scripture calls Him “a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief.” Jesus entered our broken world and experienced rejection, loss, and unimaginable pain. He understands grief because He chose to walk through it Himself.

The Savior who carried sorrow is the Savior who carries us.

He meets people in quiet rooms and tear-filled mornings. He walks with us through loss, not around it. His presence doesn’t erase our grief overnight, but it reminds us we never carry it alone.

And because of His resurrection, grief is never the end of the story.

One day, sorrow will give way to joy, death will be swallowed up forever, and every tear will be wiped away.

Until then, our hope isn’t found in pretending the pain is gone.

It’s found in the One who is still with us in the middle of it.

So if loss still feels heavy today, bring it to Jesus.

The One who knows grief best is still carrying people through it.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What grief or loss have you been carrying that you need to bring honestly before Jesus today?
  • How does knowing that Jesus is “acquainted with deepest grief” change the way you think about your own pain?
  • Where have you experienced God’s presence sustaining you, even if your circumstances haven’t changed?
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Longing Less, Living More

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Psalms 107:8-9 — Let them praise the LORD for His great love and for the wonderful things He has done for them. For He satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things.

Summer is both my favorite and my least favorite season.

I love the sun… but sometimes it feels unbearable.

I love the sand… but I hate how it sticks to everything.

I dream all year about sitting by the pool with a cold slice of watermelon, but when it finally comes—I’m hot, sticky, and already thinking about fall.

We spend so much time longing for what’s next that we don’t fully enjoy what’s right in front of us. Summer turns into fall, fall into winter, and we keep chasing the next feeling, the next season, the next moment that will finally satisfy us.

But it never quite does.

There’s always a small part of us still longing.

And if we’re honest, the problem isn’t the season—it’s the belief that something else will finally fill what only God can.

That’s the amazing thing about following Christ. Our deepest longing has already been met. We are not waiting for His love, presence, or promise. It’s already here.

Sure, we wait patiently as His plans unfold. But we are not waiting on His heart.

His love is already ours. His presence is already with us. Right here, right now.

He is the kind of God who doesn’t just notice empty places—He fills them. He’s the one who meets our real thirst with something that actually satisfies, deep down where nothing else seems to reach.

And when we begin to live from that truth, everything else starts to fall into place.

We can enjoy summer without needing it to be perfect and look forward to fall without wishing away today.

We can sit in the in-between—the longing and the having—and still feel at peace. Because the greatest desire of our souls isn’t something we’re chasing anymore. It’s something we already have.

So maybe today looks like this:

Feeling the sun and letting it be warm, not overwhelming. Laughing at the sand instead of fighting it. Eating the watermelon and actually enjoying it.

Not because everything is perfect—but because the One who satisfies us never changes.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What “next thing” have you been looking to for satisfaction lately?
  • Have you found yourself wishing away your current season instead of embracing it?
  • In what ways has God already met needs in your life that you sometimes overlook?
  • What does it mean to you that God’s presence is already with you right now?
  • How can you practice gratitude for the season you’re in instead of constantly looking ahead?
  • What is one simple blessing you can enjoy today as a gift from God?
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Faith in the In-Between

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Psalm 27:14 — Wait patiently for the Lord. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the Lord.

My wife and I were standing on the highest peak of Tijuana, Mexico. There we experienced a breathtaking view of the city—and the gravity of deep disappointment settling in our chests.

We had spent the last year preparing to serve as missionaries in Central America. We met with teams and stepped forward, desiring to discern God’s call.

Yet despite our desire for the nations, doors closed in three different countries, leaving us in a season of waiting and uncertainty.

But how do you respond when a door shuts? What do you do when you’re trying to be obedient, and things don’t work out how you expected?

In the book of Nehemiah, we see a man burdened with vision. But in humility, he bowed low under the weight of God’s providence. Nehemiah’s conviction did not drive him to force outcomes; it drove him to his knees.

Just like Nehemiah, the calling of God is rarely the version we sketch in our minds. Instead, the calling is surrender—no matter the outcome. So, we pray. We fast, and we stay near to God as we walk with Him.

Because we don’t hold the vision—He does.

And here’s the comforting thing we were learning. God knows our dreams and passions. He has not ignored them or cast them aside. In His remarkable wisdom, He weaves His sovereign plans together with the desires He Himself put inside us.

So, when we sense a call, we remain faithful.

When a door closes, we remain faithful.

And we wait patiently for the Lord. We choose to be brave despite the outcome.

Because God is never confused.

He can redirect our future more beautifully than we could ever imagine.

In the words of a seasoned missionary, “God is faithful to finish the work He starts—not necessarily the works we start. So, stay obedient, my friend.”

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Have you ever experienced a closed door when you believed God was leading you somewhere?
  • How do you typically respond when life doesn’t unfold the way you expected?
  • What does “waiting patiently for the Lord” look like in your current season?
  • Is there an area of your life where God may be inviting you to surrender the outcome instead of forcing it?
  • How can remembering God’s sovereignty give you courage while you wait?
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Who Gets Your Yes

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Romans 6:12-13  — Do not let sin control the way you live; do not give in to sinful desires. Do not let any part of your body become an instrument of evil to serve sin. Instead, give yourselves completely to God, for you were dead, but now you have new life. So use your whole body as an instrument to do what is right for the glory of God.

Boink.

That was the sound of me body-slamming my arch enemy.

Luke was built like a seventh grader. My scrawny fifth-grade self had no chance.

I don’t even know why I hated him. I just remember my friends venting about him during our daily bathroom break. Somewhere between their complaints and my own pride, I started praying that God would give me the strength to knock him unconscious.

With great love and mercy, He denied my request.

Instead, I awkwardly flailed around while the entire school drank a big cup of secondhand embarrassment. It ended with me flat on my back in the middle of the kickball field.

But do you know what? My real problem wasn’t Luke. It was my pride and the voices I was listening to.

I wasn’t defending justice. I wasn’t standing up for truth. I was presenting myself—my hands, strength, and energy—to serve that grudge controlling me.

And that’s how it always works.

But that’s not who I am anymore—I’ve been given a new life, and that changes what I do with it.

Sin doesn’t kick the door down. It whispers. It invites. It says, “This will feel good. This will make you strong. This will prove something.”

In scripture, we are warned not to let sin reign in our lives and not to hand over our bodies as an instrument for unrighteousness. Instead, offer yourselves to God—like people who’ve been brought from death to life—and let every part of you become an instrument for what is right.

You see, if we keep letting the wrong things control us, that’s playground theology with adult consequences.

If we don’t decide who we belong to, the loudest voice will decide for us.

Look at Jesus on His way to the cross. The crowd was loud. The pressure was real. The easy path would have been to bend and protect Himself or to give the people what they wanted in the moment.

He didn’t. He refused to let the crowd steer His obedience. He would not offer Himself to the spirit of the mob. Every step He took was aligned with His Father’s will.

Just as Jesus refused to follow the crowd’s destructive voices on His way to the cross, we must resist worldly influences and walk in God’s wisdom instead.

So today I want to encourage you, before you repost, before you repeat the joke, or before you step into that compromising conversation—pause. Ask yourself whose voice you want to follow. Offer your life to God and tune out the rest.

Because sin will always shout, but you don’t have to answer to it.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What voices tend to influence your decisions the most right now?
  • Where are you tempted to react out of pride, frustration, or impulse?
  • What does it look like for you to “offer yourself to God” in a practical, everyday situation?
  • How does remembering your new identity in Christ change the way you respond to temptation?
  • What is one moment today where you can pause and choose God’s way instead of reacting?
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When Having It All Isn’t Enough

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1 Timothy 6:17 — Teach those who are rich in this world not to be proud and not to trust in their money, which is so unreliable. Their trust should be in God, who richly gives us all we need for our enjoyment.

There are certain life experiences that should be mandatory. Waiting tables tops the list.

From screaming kids to screaming adults, you’re spit in the face by the entire spectrum of humanity. Truly, all tribes, tongues, and nations depend on you for a refill.

Toward the end of my time as a server, I encountered a woman I would never forget. She was an older woman wearing a T-shirt that read, “When this pandemic is over, I’m still gonna stay 6ft from some of y’all.” I laughed and asked if she meant it.

How she answered was not what I was expecting.

She shared her life with me. In her seventies, she’d lived lavishly. She had every trip, every relationship, and everything she’d ever wanted. She enjoyed food I’d never heard of and brands I could never afford like it was just normal. Her stories were electric and unbelievable.

Then her smile faded.

She told me about hosting parties — like Great Gatsby–style parties with tons of people, loud music, and endless laughter. And how, when it all ended, she was the one left alone. Standing in the silence. Cleaning up the mess.

And she became bitter.

Somewhere along the way, she stopped needing anyone—and eventually stopped leaving room for God too.

So she cut everyone off. She locked the door and said goodbye to the world around her. She became a hermit by choice.

I was baffled.

As she grabbed her to-go bag, I said, “You should come out of the house more.”

She huffed back, “And why should I do that?”

“Because God created you to be a blessing to others,” I replied.

She cut me off. “Oh honey, I know I’m blessed. But I am done.”

That was the last I ever saw of her.

How sad it is to taste everything the world has to offer and still be left cynical, dissatisfied, and alone. That’s the real tragedy. Not that she got her feelings hurt. Not that life disappointed her.

The tragedy is that she was sold a lie—and believed it. She believed pleasure could sustain her. That indulgence could satisfy her. That if she collected enough experiences, she’d finally arrive and somehow feel full.

But those who are rich in this present world are warned not to be arrogant and not to put their hope in wealth, because wealth is so uncertain. Hope is meant to rest in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment.

That truth doesn’t shame pleasure. It puts it in its proper place.

True satisfaction isn’t found in chasing the world’s pleasures—it comes from God, who fills our lives with real joy, wonder, and purpose that never leaves us empty.

God isn’t offering a flashy, hollow life. He offers one that’s grounded and full. He made a breathtaking planet. He wired us for wonder, and He gave us joy. Pleasure was never the problem. Putting our hope in it was.

God isn’t trying to rob your joy. He’s trying to anchor it somewhere it can last.

So hold the good things in your life with open hands. Enjoy them deeply, but don’t ask them to save you. Let your hope rest in the God who gives generously—not in gifts that eventually run out.

That kind of joy doesn’t leave you empty.

It leaves you whole.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What are the things in your life that you tend to look to for satisfaction or fulfillment?
  • Have you ever achieved or experienced something you thought would satisfy you—but didn’t?
  • What’s the difference between enjoying God’s gifts and depending on them for your identity or happiness?
  • In what ways might you be placing your hope in something that isn’t meant to carry that weight?
  • What would it look like for you to anchor your joy more deeply in God this week?
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