Mark Resources

There is a crack in my parents' front door. The door is not in disrepair, and to most observers, there is no visible sign that the door's integrity is compromised. At night the severity and even the presence of the crack are impossible to determine. But when the sun shines, the light that presses through the crack bears an undeniable testimony.

I recently spent a few days at my parents' home. It was not a visit of pleasure but one of heartache. Close family friends had lost a son and a grandson, and I returned home to be with this family. My heart was broken. The heaviness of grief was felt with every breath. The fatigue of sadness rested on my shoulders like cumbersome over-stuffed luggage. Everything within me wanted to do something to make it better, assuage my friends' pain, and heal the brokenness. But there was nothing that could be done. All I could do was remember the wisdom of Solomon that there is an appointed time for everything, and this was a time to weep and mourn. And so, we did.

Years ago, after moving to a new town and a new ministry position, I decided that it would be good to meet the other pastors in the community. One church in the community I recognized was a significant connection to make. This church was of another denomination than my church. Yet, our two churches had historically partnered in community service endeavors because of our proximity to one another and equivalent prominence in the community. Knowing this history, I thought a relationship with this church’s pastor would be beneficial. I called the church and made an appointment. The pastor’s secretary greeted me and escorted me to the pastor’s office when I arrived. I imagined that the pastor would be welcoming, warm, and open to connecting with me. I was unpleasantly surprised.

When I entered his office, his disinterest was apparent, and he seemed annoyed that I had bothered to interrupt his time. I told him who I was and how I hoped we could be good partners for the gospel in our community. To say he was not interested would be a gross understatement. He made it clear that I could do whatever I wanted, but he was not interested in participating. He explained that he was within a year or two of retiring and was biding his time until that day. I was flabbergasted. He was not ashamed nor secretive about his plan. He intended to perform the minimum requirements of his pastoral duties until he could retire and move on to other things.

Losing a beloved pet can be heartbreaking. This post reflects on why we grieve our pets and explores what the Bible says—or doesn’t say—about pets in heaven, offering comfort and hope to pet owners.

We spend much of our lives talking about our bodies—what hurts, what is failing, what needs treatment, and what is growing weaker with age. Since Genesis 3, every generation has known the painful effects of sin’s curse through sickness, frailty, and death.

But Revelation 21 points us to a day when the former things will pass away. In heaven, God’s people will no longer speak of pain, weakness, or death. With glorified bodies and redeemed hearts, our conversation will be overtaken by the glory of God and the joy of life in Christ forever.

My favorite holiday is Thanksgiving. I enjoy gathering with family, sharing a good meal, and spending the day unencumbered by the regular demands of life. During the Thanksgiving season, we rightly turn our attention to what we are thankful for. When thinking about what we are thankful for, we generally identify things, people, and events that we have received. You might be thankful for a good gift, a good relationship, or an advancement at work. These are certainly worthy of being thankful for, but I think there is something else that we should consider. God certainly blesses and provides by giving good gifts, but He also blesses and provides well by what He says "No" to and what He withholds.

Different eras bring different desires, but the common thread is a desire for what is perceived as better than what you have. When I was a kid, I very much thought that the kids who were growing up in homes that were more affluent than mine had it better. Many of them had parents who were much more accommodating to the desires and wishes of their children. Many of them, though they attended church somewhat regularly, had no problem with spending the weekend at the river or some other activity that seemed so much more exciting than attending Sunday school and worship. I often felt as though the kids who drove nicer cars were more blessed. I was very envious of those who could spend their Sundays skiing while I sat in church. On the issue of church attendance, I employed every argument I could muster to attempt to persuade my parents that missing a Sunday or two would not negatively impact my walk with the Lord. I passionately proclaimed that we were under grace and not under the law. In more desperate moments, I may have even insinuated that my parents were committing the sin of legalism. No matter how passionate I pleaded, their response to my desire to turn my attention away from worship and keeping Sabaoth was “No.” I was not thankful for it then, but the magnitudes of gratitude I feel today are incalculable. There was more grace in what I was not allowed to do than if I had enjoyed the freedoms and provisions I thought were so important.