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Last week I was leading my four year old daughter through a bedtime prayer. It went like this:

Me: “Dear God,”

Kailey: “Dear God,”

Me: “Thank you for a beautiful day.”

Kailey: “Thank you for a bootiful day.”

Me: “Thank you for all your blessings.”

Kailey: “Thank you for all your blessings.”

Me: “Thank you for sending Jesus to die on the cross to pay for all my sins.” (suddenly realizing it was probably too long for her to remember.)

Kailey: “Thank you for crossing out all my sins.”

I looked up, smiled and said, “Amen.”

This training session is by my good friend Lane Palmer. He writes Soul Fuel for Dare 2 Share every week and leads the Bible department at Valor Christian Academy. I met Lane when we were in high school and I was visiting his youth group to train them how to share their faith. We started doing evangelism together and that was that. We became lifelong friends united by a common cause, THE Cause (otherwise known as The Great Commmission.)

Lane lost his mom on July 4th. She died of a bad heart. But her heart is beating stronger than ever as she kneels before the throne of Christ with millions of other saints. She has had her real independance day celebration as she has been finally set free from all the pain of this earth.

Anyway I have been thinking of and praying for Lane a lot lately. Losing your mom ia a painful thing. And as I’ve thought of him I have been reminded of what a solid Bible teacher he is. That’s why I think you’ll not only enjoy this video but be equipped by it to defend your faith more effectively.

Enjoy…


Free Youth Ministry Resources

Thank you Lord for pain.

Through it you draw me closer to you. By it you drive me to my knees in prayer. From it you form in me the image of Christ.

Pain is a friend that I welcome with outstretched hands and open arms. Although he hurts me I am still glad to see him. Why? Because he was the closest earthly companion of my best friend Jesus. Pain was there in the Garden of Gethsemane when Jesus called out in utter desperation to God. But instead of giving up, giving way or giving in, Jesus took the cup that pain offered to him in the garden and drank down every last drop.

Pain was right there when the soldiers swung their whips and wielded their fists toward Jesus. He stood silently in the shadow of the cross as Jesus absorbed the punishment and pain that I so deeply deserved. Through pain Jesus bore the sin of my humanity of all humanity and screamed out “My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me?”

Through the pain of Christ on my behalf I have been justified. By pain’s constant presence I am being sanctified. Out of pain’s strong grasp I will someday be glorified.

Without pain I’d forget to pray, to trust, to wait.

With pain I remember who is Lord, what is important and why I’m here.

Pain is the alarm clock that awakens me to the eternal. It is the cold water plunge that shocks my senses, causing me run to the warmth of my Savior’s embrace. It is the sextant through which I focus on the true North of Christ’s sovereignty as He guides me through the raging seas to the celestial shore.

Pain is the bitter bread that I must eat. Although I may choke it down, it makes me stronger. With each hard swallow I am taking in the fellowship of sharing in Christ’s sufferings, so that someday I can attain to the resurrection of the dead.

Pain drives me to the foot of the cross so that I can be reminded of the One who endured the ultimate pain on my behalf. Pain provokes me to worship. It lifts my face to be reminded of the pain Jesus endured to free me from the eternal pain of hell.

“Heavenly Father, I am on to you. I know your secret. Pain is the chisel in your hand that you are using to chip off the excesses of granite sin and rock hard habits that encase my frail frame. I know that your job is not done until the image of Christ appears in me. With one hand you hold the chisel of suffering and with the other you wield the hammer of love. I can see the tears in your eyes with each blow. It is seeing those tears in the midst of my suffering that give me the courage to endure. It hurts God. But with every swing and every blow I see more of Jesus in me and more of your plan to use pain for your kingdom’s gain.

Please don’t stop.”

*re-written from an blog I wrote three years ago. A good reminder for me and perhaps for you as well.

Amy Carmichael was a missionary to India in the late 1800’s through the early 1900’s. Read this moving and convicting dream that she had about the church’s reponsibility to rescue the lost. Powerful.

“The tom-toms thumped straight on all night and the darkness shuddered round me like a living, feeling thing. I could not go to sleep, so I lay awake and looked; and I saw, as it seemed, this:

That I stood on a grassy sward, and at my feet a precipice broke sheer down into infinite space. I looked, but saw no bottom; only cloud shapes, black and furiously coiled, and great shadow-shrouded hollows, and unfathomable depths. Back I drew, dizzy at the depth.

Then I saw forms of people moving single file along the grass. They were making for the edge. There was a woman with a baby in her arms and another little child holding on to her dress. She was on the very verge. Then I saw that she was blind. She lifted her foot for the next step . . . it trod air. She was over, and the children over with her. Oh, the cry as they went over!

Then I saw more streams of people flowing from all quarters. All were blind, stone blind; all made straight for the precipice edge. There were shrieks, as they suddenly knew themselves falling, and a tossing up of helpless arms, catching, clutching at empty air. But some went over quietly, and fell without a sound.

Then I wondered, with a wonder that was simply agony, why no one stopped them at the edge. I could not. I was glued to the ground, and I could only call; though I strained and tried, only whisper would come.

Then I saw that along the edge there were sentries set at intervals. But the intervals were too great; there were wide, unguarded gaps between. And over these gaps the people fell in their blindness, quite unwarned; and the green grass seemed blood-red to me, and the gulf yawned like the mouth of hell.

Then I saw, like a little picture of peace, a group of people under some trees with their backs turned toward the gulf. They were making daisy chains. Sometimes when a piercing shriek cut the quiet air and reached them, it disturbed them and they thought it a rather vulgar noise. And if one of their number started up and wanted to go and do something to help, then all the others would pull that one down. “Why should you get so excited about it? You must wait for a definite call to go! You haven’t finished your daisy chain yet. It would be really selfish,” they said, “to leave us to finish the work alone.”

There was another group. It was made up of people whose great desire was to get more sentries out; but they found that very few wanted to go, and sometimes there were no sentries set for miles and miles of the edge.

Once a girl stood alone in her place, waving the people back; but her mother and other relations called and reminded her that her furlough was due; she must not break the rules. And being tired and needing a change, she had to go and rest for awhile; but no one was sent to guard her gap, and over and over the people fell, like a waterfall of souls.

Once a child caught at a tuft of grass that grew at the very brink of the gulf; it clung convulsively, and it called-but nobody seemed to hear. Then the roots of the grass gave way, and with a cry the child went over, its two little hands still holding tight to the torn-off bunch of grass. And the girl who longed to be back in her gap thought she heard the little one cry, and she sprang up and wanted to go; at which they reproved her, reminding her that no one is necessary anywhere; the gap would be well taken care of, they knew. And then they sang a hymn.

Then through the hymn came another sound like the pain of a million broken hearts wrung out in one full drop, one sob. And a horror of great darkness was upon me, for I knew what it was-the Cry of the Blood.

Then thundered a voice, the voice of the Lord. “And He said, ‘What hast thou done, The voice of thy brother’s blood crieth unto me from the ground.’”

The tom-toms still beat heavily, the darkness still shuddered and shivered about me; I heard the yells of the devil-dancers and weird, wild shriek of the devil-possessed just outside the gate.

What does it matter, after all? It has gone on for years; it will go on for years. Why make such a fuss about it?

God forgive us! God arouse us! Shame us out of our callousness! Shame us out of our sin!”

Are you rescuing people from plunging into the abyss or are you too busy making daisy chains?

I was raised listening to Michael Jackson’s music. It was the dirty secret I kept locked in my fundamentalist closet growing up. From ABC to Bad to Thriller to Billy Jean I moonwalked time and time again to Jackson’s music in my basement room across the concrete floors.

Michael taught this white boy how to dance. As a matter of fact, I learned so well that I once got offered a job at a concert when the dancers pulled me on stage to embarass me and I outdanced them all.

Sad but true.

But as much as I loved his music I have to admit that he caused me much personal pain. I’m referring to the time I tore my ACL dancing to one of his music videos before I was about to do some visitiation as the preaching pastor of Grace Church in Arvada, Colorado.

Really sad but true.

Another sad but true reality is that Michael is now dead. I am sincerely sorry for that. I was a fan of much of his music, especially the early stuff. But as sad as I am that he died I am much more sorry about how he lived.

It seems to me that he was on a perpetual search for happiness and just couldn’t find it. He built Neverland but it never brought him the happiness that he so desperately longed for. Nothing could. Bubbles couldn’t. Elizabeth Taylor couldn’t. Sold out arenas couldn’t. Hundreds of millions of dollars couldn’t.

He looked for it in the Jehovah’s Witnesses but there was nothing but legalism behind that hollow door of religion. He tried to find it in cosmetic surgery but all he could find was disfigurement. He even tried (and succeeded) in changing the color of his skin. But the white Michael Jackson seemed just as miserable as the black one…if not a little more.

The poor guy couldn’t even think back to the “better times” of his childhood. Why? Because, according to him, even these memories were not good. In one interview he said that when he was a kid he would literally puke when his father entered the room. That’s how terrified he was of his own dad. According to Michael he never had time to play but only to practice. His dad was too busy pushing him and his brothers up the music charts to be worried about Michael having any kind of normal childhood.

Not only was his childhood ruined but, according to many, he ruined some childhoods himself. Whether the allegations are true or not we will probably never really know. What we do know is that the accusations, the court mayhem and the financial payoffs added to the craziness and emptiness that defined the later years of Michael Jackson.

I wish Michael Jackson could have met the real Jesus, not the rule mongering, anti holiday, party pooper Jesus of The Watchtower. I’m talking about the Jesus of the New Testament. I really wish the King of Pop would have met the King of kings. Jesus would have quenched his thirst (see the woman at the well), healed his hurts (see the ten lepers) and changed the color of his soul not his skin. The King of kings could have given Michael a reason to sing and dance (see all the Gospels.)

Michael Jackson, perhaps the most talented musician in the history of humanity, died a tragic death and lived an even more tragic life. But I believe that there is one legacy he left that will make a lasting difference. No, I’m not talking about his music. His biggest legacy to the world is the stark realization that all of the talent and all of the money on the planet can never buy lasting happiness. Why? Because happiness cannot be bought it can only be received from the hands of our Creator, our Savior, our friend, Jesus Christ. When you have him you don’t need best selling albums or an oxygen tent to sleep in. When you have him you don’t need anything.

Now that, my friend, is something to sing about.

When I was in 3rd grade at Brown Elementary School in North Denver I got in trouble for doing something very weird as I walked down the hallway between classes. I was shuffling along with my eyes turned downward, riveted on the white tile floors beneath my feet. Both of my arms were locked rigidly by my side and both of my middle fingers were extended straight down from my tiny fists. They pointed toward the hellish abode of Satan that I was sure existed on the other side of those tiles.

A teacher tapped me on the shoulder and asked, “What are you doing Greg?” I remember feeling frustrated that this teacher had disrupted me in what I felt like was a spiritual exercise tantamount to fasting and meditation. I looked up in exasperation and answered flatly, “I’m flipping off the devil.” The look on my face must have convinced the teacher that I was totally sincere. So, instead of sending me to the office, he stuttered out, “Well, um, stop doing that.” I complied with his request but took secret pleasure that I was still going to flip Satan off in my heart.

Okay, so I was a weird kid. But you have to understand my background. I was raised in a family filled with body building, tobacco chewing, beer drinking thugs (insert signature line here*) where flippiing off someone was as common as waving hello. I wasn’t quite sure what it meant but I knew it was something you’d do to those you really hated and the only person that I really hated at the time was the Devil. So I reasoned that if there was one person I could flip off and consider it an act of worship it would be the Devil.

Up until that time I had never read Jude 8-10, “In the very same way, these dreamers pollute their own bodies, reject authority and slander celestial beings. But even the archangel Michael, when he was disputing with the devil about the body of Moses, did not dare to bring a slanderous accusation against him, but said, ‘The Lord rebuke you!’ Yet these men speak abusively against whatever they do not understand.”

I didn’t know that I was supposed to be careful in the way that I dealt with Satan by refusing to try to take him on myself. I didn’t know that slandering celestial beings was a no no in the divine scheme. I didn’t know that a simple “The Lord rebuke you” would suffice. I didn’t know all this because I was only eight years old.

So how do I deal with Satan thirty five years later? Well, I don’t flip him off anymore, although I hate him more than ever. I hate what he has done to this nation and the hearts of our young people. I hate that he has blinded the minds of those who believe not so that they won’t trust in Jesus (2 Corinthians 4:4.) I hate that he hates the God whom I love and who loves me in spite of all my mess ups.

I hate Satan with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns. But now I choose to flip him off with my life and not my middle finger(s). I want to live such a God honoring life that it enrages him more than any word or gesture ever could. I’m not quite there yet but I am pressing on to live a life that makes God smile and gets Satan ticked.

Join me.

* The signature line “….and that’s just the women” is a registered trademark of Greg Stier Inc and is not to be used without the express written consent of Greg Stier and the female bodybuilders in his family.

In case you haven’t heard Mark Sanford, the Republican governor of South Carolina, was caught by his wife in an adulterous affair with a woman from Argentina. To be honest, it makes me cringe when I hear his qualifying explanations and wierd apologies. It is obvious that he is still “in love/lust” with this woman but was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I’m sure he is torn between his commitment to God, his wife, his constituencies and his hormones. To be honest, I wish he would just resign and go away. The media is having a field day with this story. Like pit bulls with raw steak they are salivating, tearing and chomping the tantalyzing tidbits of this taudry real life romance novel.

But there is nothing novel or nobel about it. This whole thing makes me sick. It is very sad, not just for his family, but because it gives another black eye to the battered bride of Christ.

Speaking of brides, I actually respect his wife for not just blindly standing by her man, pretending like she supports him. She is angry, committed to God and processing what to do next. She seems like the only one in this story who is not a fake. Don’t get me wrong, I hope they work it out. But I hope they really work it out and not just stay together in the marriage because divorce is not an option, or for the sake of the kids or whatever. And talk about Sanford and sons. I feel bad for the junkyard he has left for his young boys. Their hero has fallen. Their world has cracked.

I am praying that Sanford repents, resigns and then restores his marriage. and gains back the respect of his kids. But the dude has got a long way to go from what I can see.

It’s always something with us Christians. A few years ago it was the whole tawdry affair between Ted Haggard and a male escourt (isn’t that just a fancy way of saying prostitute?) It just seems like every year or two another nationally prominent Christian bites the dust of the lust and we, the believers in Christ, become a laughing stock to the world…again. We just keep giving the unregenerate more and more reasons not to believe in Jesus.

So how are we to respond? What’s a believer to do when good Christians go bad?

1. Don’t be surprised.

A Christian can commit any sin that an unregenerate person can. We still have a sinful nature and it is as depraved as ever. Our sinful nature doesn’t become less sinful when we become Christians. Sure, it is legally dead, like a prisoner on death row without appeals. But it still can lie to us from behind the bars. Paul makes this clear in Romans 7:15-19, “I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.”

Don’t be surprised when Christians sin. We all have it in us.

2. Don’t get cocky.

My wife sometimes gets frustrated with me when she asks me “Would you ever cheat on me?” and my answer is inevitably, “I sure hope not.” She wants me to give her a definitive “no!” but I am afraid of giving it because I don’t want to get arrogant about my own ability and resolve to stay pure. It’s that kind of sure-fire cockiness that leads to moral compromise. Galatians 6:1 reminds us, “Brothers, if someone is caught in a sin, you who are spiritual should restore him gently. But watch yourself, or you also may be tempted.”

I have reminded my wife of this verse and she has reminded me that she won’t be one of those stand-by-your-man kind of women if I ever cheat. She has made it clear that she will use her get-out-of-marriage free card (Matthew 19:9) if I ever commit adultery. And I believe her! This may surprise those of you who know my wife as the sweet and kind lover of people that she is! But she has another side that only those closest to her know about, an unmatched inner strength and resolve. I actually am reminded of my wife when I read Mrs. Sanford’s comments about her husbands infidelities. To be honest, I am afraid of cheating on my wife and, in some wierd way, that makes me more attracted to her. Debbie is not defined by me. She is defined by God and, therefore, she looks at me with a perspective calibrated by who she is in Christ.

We are going on our 19th wedding aniversary and my hope is that we are both faithful to God and each other for the rest of our lives. But we can’t get cocky about the strength of our internal resolve to stay pure. Instead we must….

3. Choose to live a life of dependency on Christ moment by moment.

“So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God—through Jesus Christ our Lord!” Romans 7:21-25

It is Jesus who has rescued us from the penalty of sin (when we trusted Him as our Savior), is rescuing us from the power of sin (when we continue to trust Him moment by moment) and will rescue us someday from the presence of sin (when we die or fly.) But, in the meantime, we are in a daily battle with who we were (our sinful nature) and our new identity in Christ. When we choose to listen to our old self we lose. When we choose to depend on Christ we live out who we really are in Christ.

Once, at a pastor’s conference many years ago, the lead speaker (who was a famous Christian psychologist) claimed that he had counseled thousands of pastors and their wives through adulterous situations. He said that the one common denominator that all of the compromising pastors had was the the safeguards they had put in place with members of the opposite sex. This may surprise you as much as it did me but he vehemently said it was true. Every one of these unfaithful men of the cloth had refused to counsel a woman alone or be in a car with the member of the opposite sex alone or whatever.

The speaker then told us something I’ll never forget. He said, “Gentlemen, safeguards, in and of themselves, will not protect you from unfaithfulness. Only a strong relationship with Jesus and your wife will.” He went on to explain that he thought safeguards were all well and good but he pounded the point and the pulpit home with a phrase I will never forget, “lust will pick a lock.”

He is right. The only thing that will keep us pure is not some human rule but the divine rule of Christ in our hearts. The moment we put our trust in the safeguards instead of Jesus is the moment we fail. As Colossians 2:23 reminds us, “Such regulations indeed have an appearance fo wisdom…but they lack any value in restraining sensual indulgences.”

4. Forgive and restore or confront and ostracize.

I don’t know Mark Sanford’s heart. Maybe his repentance is genuine, maybe not. That needs to be determined by the spiritual leaders at his church. But if and when true repentance takes place we Christians should be the first to forgive. If genuine repentance doesn’t take place then there should be Biblcial confrontation (Matthew 18:16-17) and, if that doesn’t do the trick, then ostracization by the entire church (Matthew 18:17; 1 Corinthians 5:9-13.) Think of this as a holy cold shoulder done out of a heart of love with the goal being shame, repentance and restoration in the heart of the believer.

Tough stuff. But the stuff that makes Christianity unique, holy as well as loving.

I am praying for Mark Sanford as well as for his wife and family. I hope he repents, resigns and restores. I am also praying for you to be pure, to trust in the Lord, not your human safeguards to keep you pure. Please pray for me. I want to be a faithful husband who finishes well. I want to be dependent on God’s strength and not my own.

When good Christians go bad we need to confront and seek to restore. We need to analyze ourselves and not become arrogantly judgmental, to humbly trust in Christ’s power to keep us pure and to seek to rebuild the Name and Fame of Christ by living holy lives of love outloud to all around us.

We have our work cut out for us.

We believe God is initiating a movement among teenagers to mobilize teenagers on all of the 67,000 high school and middle school campuses in America . We are seeking to inspire and equip these teenagers to relationally and relentlessly reach their friends with the gospel. Dare 2 Share will be helping launch THE Cause this fall with students, youth leaders, adult Champions and anyone who will listen! Our goal is to raise $300,000 by then and to have half of that by June 30th which is the end of our fiscal year. By God’s grace we have already raised $87,500, meaning there is only $62,500 to go!

Would you spend some time seeking God about what He might lay on your heart to give towards THE Cause before next Tuesday? Imagine hundreds of thousands of Christian teens inspired, equipped and unleashed to lead the charge for an awakening with their friends at their own schools! You can get involved through giving by going to our website here: https://www.dare2share.org/donate/general/ or sending a check to Dare 2 Share Ministries PO Box 745323, Arvada, CO 80006-5323.

Another way you can get involved (other than prayer of course!) is by signing up for Mission Mobilize, a monthly e-mail from me to you which will give you a tool, resource or idea to mobilize at least one teenager you know for evangelistic action! To sign up for Mission Mobilize click here.

THANK you for being a co-laborer with us in seeing God’s people (in this case teenagers) effectively equipped to reach their friends with the gospel. Please feel free to post any questions you may have about THE Cause below. I am excited!

“If sinners be dammed, at least let them leap to hell over our bodies. If they will perish, let them perish with our arms about their knees. Let no one go there unwarned and unprayed for.” Charles Spurgeon

I love my little girl Kailey. She is four years old and has got her daddy whipped. When she crosses her eyes and wiggles her eyebrows up and down she makes me roar with laughter. She calls me “Gregory” when she wants to irritate and amuse me at the same time. And when she wants something she knows how to get it too. She wraps both of her tiny arms around my leg and starts begging “Oh please! Oh please! Oh please!” with over-exaggerated drama. And, to be honest, those big blue eyes make me melt like a snow cone on a hot summer’s day in the Sahara every single time.

One of the things that cracks me up about little Kailey is that she always carries a bucket full of toys with her wherever she goes. In that bucket there is every little toy you could imagine. She has Wonderpets, legos, little dolls and rubber balls. She’s got all sorts of seemingly unrelated toys in that tiny bucket of fun.

Wherever we take her, whether it be at a park, a birthday party or our childcare provider’s house she busts out the bucket-o-toys and starts playing. Somehow she connects all the toys together in some kind of game that only she understands. Literally, the girl can entertain herself for hours with that little bucket of toys. She LOVES it and talks about it all the time.

At night she wants her B.O.T.s by her bed so that she can wake up and see it in the dark by the glimmer of her night light. She even wants to take it with her into the bathtub when its scrubbing time at the Stier house. But even I, the great Mr. Puddy-in-her-hands, says no to that…usually.

I tolerate her bucket of toys because she is four years old. I understand that this kind of thing is part of being a kid. I know that someday, all by herself, she will put down the bucket of toys and exchange it for something more grown up.

As I was watching her one night playing with her toys I started thinking to myself, “What is my bucket of toys? What is that thing that I take with me wherever I go and talk about all the time?”

I wish that I could honestly answer that it was the Lord Jesus Christ. But to be honest, my passion for Dare 2 Share can sometimes surpass my passion for Jesus. At these times I can plop down my bucket of toys and blab non stop about all the ministry taking place through Dare 2 Share, then pack up my toys and go home.

Like Kailey, I love my bucket of toys.

Don’t get me wrong, executing the mission and ministry of Dare 2 Share is a big part of what Jesus has called me to do. But too often I forget that the bucket of ministry I’m responsible for is not the point. Jesus is.

It’s way too easy in ministry to let what we are doing for Jesus take the throne of Jesus. Sure we were “created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” But, when those good works rule in Christ’s stead, good ministry becomes bad idolatry.

Hence the trickiness of our relationship between our calling and our King. The reason that this relationship can be tough to manage is that we are called by God to accomplish our missions with passion and precision. But these holy callings from God can quickly morph into something more sinister. It can for me anyway. I know that when I’m in flesh mode instead of Spirit mode, Dare 2 Share becomes my Lord instead of Jesus.

Pray for me. I want God to be the object of my utmost desire, for Him to be my bucket of toys. The apostle Paul put it this way in Philippians 3:7-11, “But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.”

I want Jesus to be what fills my bucket every single day, not Dare 2 Share or anything else. I want to do Dare 2 Share with passion because I have a passion to know Jesus and share Him with as many people as possible. I want Dare 2 Share to be an instrument of my passion for God and not the object of my passion.

This is the battle that I face everyday in ministry. This is the challenge I have with my bucket of toys.

What about you? What is your bucket of toys? Is it ministry or sports or work or friendships or technology or something or someone else? We all have a go to bucket that we run to when we are contolled by the flesh instead of the Spirit. Whatever your bucket of toys is let us learn together to allow Jesus to fill our hearts to overflow with a passion for Him. Let’s discover how to let everthing else we do be an expression of our love for Him!

Fill us up with you and you alone O God!