Jeffrey LaFray, a student at Florida State University, told Good Morning America that he and his fellow students used chewing gum to stay safe during last week’s mass shooting on his campus. When gunshots were being fired nearby, his teacher wanted to cover the windows of their classroom with paper so the shooter couldn’t see inside, but they didn’t have tape to use. So the students started chewing gum and then used it to stick the paper to the windows.

The April 17 attack killed two men: Tiru Chabba, a forty-five-year-old father and executive for campus vendor Aramark, who is survived by his wife and two children; and Robert Morales, a beloved high school football coach who worked in the university’s dining services department. Six people, including students, were injured as well and sent to a local hospital.

After the mass shooting, there were many calls for prayer for the victims, their families, and first responders. Despite skeptics who ridicule such responses, the Bible clearly calls us to respond to crisis by seeking God’s help and hope (cf. Philippians 4:6–7; Jeremiah 29:12).

Reading about the tragedy over the weekend, I had this simple thought: Let’s also pray for help and hope before the crisis strikes.

One way I limit God

I must confess that while I have prayed often for victims of school attacks after they happen, I have not often prayed for God to protect our schools from such attacks.

When I was a pastor, I prayed for our members as they faced health challenges, grief over the death of loved ones, and other suffering endemic to life on this fallen planet. But I did not pray often enough for God to protect them from such challenges and suffering.

One of the manifold reasons to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus, not just on Easter Sunday but every day, is the fact that our risen and living Lord is just as relevant to our needs today as when he walked our planet twenty centuries ago. As I noted last week, he is praying for us even as Scripture calls us to pray to him. He is still healing the sick (Acts 3:1–10; 9:32–35) and raising the dead (Acts 9:36–43). And he is still proactively holding the world together (Colossians 1:15–17).

However, if we limit his relevance to reacting to pain and problems, we miss much of what he wants to do in and through our lives. If we were to be more proactive, praying for him to protect us from such suffering and to advance his kingdom in our broken world, what would be the results?

“Seek the welfare of the city”

The Bible admonishes us, “Ye have not, because ye ask not” (James 4:2 KJV). Could it be that much of our suffering comes from not asking God to prevent it and to work proactively to make our world better?

I am not suggesting that such prayers are a magical panacea, of course. Human free will still permits us to sin against God, others, and ourselves. And God’s ways are far beyond our finite and fallen understanding (Isaiah 55:8–9).

But any good parent wants their children to flourish positively, not just recover from crisis and calamity when they strike. We want their best, not just their survival.

Scripture calls us to seek the same from our Lord, wherever we are and whatever our circumstances. Even Jewish exiles in Babylon were told to “seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lᴏʀᴅ on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare” (Jeremiah 29:7).

Paul assured us that we are “more than conquerors through him who loved us” (Romans 8:37). It is not health-and-wealth heresy to seek God’s best as proactively as possible. As we pray for God’s will to be done “on earth as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6:10), this means praying for far more than his help when we hurt.

And as we join him in answering our prayers by seeking the flourishing of our world, we partner with our Creator in redeeming his creation.

“You are more than your frustrations”

As I noted recently, “an abundance mentality that expects and focuses on the positive is demonstrably healthier for us than a scarcity mentality that does not.” This has been shown conclusively both in scientific and anecdotal ways.

Seeking and expecting the positive rather than the negative builds a positive focus that often becomes self-fulfilling. The bestselling author James Clear recently encouraged us:

Focus on the things you are for, not the things you are against.

Many people spend large chunks of their day thinking about what they hate. They are always telling you about something they dislike: this food, that subject, this political party, that coworker.

You are more than your frustrations. Build your identity around what you love.

When we proactively seek God’s best for ourselves and others, we can partner with our Father in answering our prayers. We become the change we wish to see, and the hands of Jesus continue his ministry in our broken world.

And just as the multitudes responded to his compassion in faith (cf. Matthew 4:23–25), so they will respond as our ministry draws them to its Source (Matthew 5:16).

Why I am not more proactive in my prayers

Why, then, am I not more proactive in responding through prayer to the world around and within me?

One reason is that I’m afraid God won’t do what I ask, and then I’ll have the problem and frustration of wondering and explaining why. If I pray for safety on school campuses and there’s another shooting, I’ll be disappointed. If my prayers are public, I’ll be embarrassed for myself and for my Lord.

Pessimists are never disappointed, as they say.

A second factor is that, despite my constant warnings over the years not to segregate religion from the “real world,” I sometimes succumb to cultural pressure to do so.

On my too-frequent bad days, my first impulse when things go wrong is to wonder why God allowed this and then to pray for him to correct his “mistake” and make things right. On my better days, I see obstacles as opportunities to pray and respond redemptively for his glory and our good.

On my best days, I pray without ceasing (1 Thessalonians 5:17) in communion and conversation with Jesus about everything in my world, good and bad. I thank him for the good and pray for his providence and protection to advance his kingdom. Then, when the bad does arise, I respond in faith.

Now I am resolving to have more of my “best days,” and invite you to join me.

In his 2009 song, “Closer to Love,” Mat Kearney sings, “I guess we’re all one phone call from our knees.”

When you get your next “phone call,” I hope you’ll turn to your Father.

But how will you pray today before that call comes?

Denison Forum

I woke up this morning to the news that Pope Francis, the first Latin American pontiff, has died. His passing was announced by Cardinal Kevin Farrell, the Vatican camerlengo. Bells tolled in church towers across Rome after the announcement.

The pope survived a thirty-eight-day stay in Gemelli hospital for a respiratory crisis, emerging yesterday to bless thousands of people in St. Peter’s Square for Easter Sunday. He then surprised them by riding in the popemobile through the piazza. Earlier in the day, he met briefly with US Vice President JD Vance.

The passing of a pope is a monumental event for a church numbering 1.4 billion across the world. Francis’ pontificate was especially historic and often controversial. Journalists and historians will be discussing and debating his leadership for many days. His statements and actions with regard to women, LGBTQ people, clergy sexual abuse, migrants, Vatican reform, and the priesthood were applauded by many and opposed by many others.

Of all that could be said about Pope Francis this morning, however, I want to focus on his humility.

His first act as pope

Jorge Mario Bergoglio was born in Argentina on December 17, 1936. A rising star in the Catholic church, he was appointed head of all Jesuits in Argentina and Uruguay at the age of thirty-six, but what he later called “my authoritarian and quick manner of making decisions” led to deep divisions in the Jesuit community. As a result, he was exiled for two years in Argentina, a period Bergoglio later called “a time of great interior crisis.”

The priest who emerged was more humble, servant-hearted, and people-centered. He learned that caring for hurting souls is the Church’s primary responsibility, and leaders must lead with humility and compassion. He began concluding every conversation by asking the other person to pray for him (a practice he continued as pope). Even when he became archbishop of Argentina, he chose to live in simple quarters, ride public transportation, and cook his own meals.

When Cardinal Bergoglio was chosen as pope in 2013, his first act was to receive his fellow cardinals as their peer, standing on their level. For his first public appearance, he wore a white cassock, the ordinary papal dress, rather than the more formal red, ermine-trimmed mozzetta used by previous popes.

He chose to wear the same iron pectoral cross he had worn as archbishop of Buenos Aires, rather than the gold one used by his papal predecessors. In his first public act as pope, before he blessed the pilgrims standing en masse in St. Peter’s Square, he asked them to pray for his predecessor, Pope Benedict XVI, and for himself.

He then chose to remain in the Vatican guesthouse rather than moving to the official papal residence in the Apostolic Palace. He was the first pope since Pius X (who died in 1914) not to live in the spacious papal apartments. He wore his old orthotic shoes rather than the red loafers of the papacy and rode in compact cars.

Washing the feet of juvenile offenders

On his first Holy Thursday following his election, Francis participated in the traditional Maundy Thursday foot-washing service, choosing twelve people (symbolizing the twelve disciples). However, the twelve he chose were not wealthy or notable people of significance in the church—they were juvenile offenders from Rome’s Casal del Marmo detention facility.

After he washed and kissed their feet, he said to them, “Washing your feet means I am at your service.” Two of the twelve were female, making Francis the first pope ever to wash the feet of a woman. In addition, two of the juvenile offenders were Muslim.

His first trip as pope was to the island of Lampedusa, then central to Europe’s migrant crisis. He consistently visited poor countries where Christians were persecuted minorities.

Camerlengo Farrell said of Pope Francis at his death this morning: “He taught us to live the values of the gospel with faithfulness, courage, and universal love, especially for the poorest and most marginalized.”

What Spurgeon, Moody, and Billy Graham had in common

Humility—the decision to place the Lord and others before ourselves—is not just an important principle for Christians who wish to be used by God: it is the foundation of all the others.

Jesus began his Sermon on the Mount with the proclamation, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:3). “Poor” translates ptochos, which means to be so impoverished as to beg for food from others. The beatitude can be rendered, “Blessed are those who know their desperate need of God, for they make him their king and advance his kingdom.” All that follows in Jesus’ sermon and the Christian life is based on this.

• The commission of the church to preach the gospel to “the end of the earth” can be fulfilled only in the power of the Holy Spirit (Acts 1:8), and that power can be given only to those who are yielded to the Lord (cf. Acts 1:14; 2:4).
• The courage of the church in fulfilling its commission is fueled by the Spirit when we are surrendered to him and “filled” by him (Acts 2:4; 4:8, 31; 13:9).
• The character of the church as exemplified by the “fruit of the Spirit” (Galatians 5:22–23) can be manifested by the Spirit only in those who are humbled and submitted before him (Ephesians 5:18).
• The compassion of the church for the least, the last, and the lost—a commitment so exemplified by Pope Francis—is fueled by the compassion of Christ (Matthew 9:36; 14:14; Luke 7:13) when we humble ourselves before his Spirit.

If you were to ask evangelicals to identify the three greatest preachers of recent generations, many would include Charles Spurgeon, Dwight Moody, and Billy Graham. What did they have in common?

Spurgeon said of himself: “Without the Spirit of God I feel I am utterly unable to speak to you. I have not those gifts and talents which qualify me to speak; I need an afflatus from on high; otherwise, I stand like other men, and have naught to say. May that be given to me, for without it I am dumb!” And God used him to preach to ten million people across his ministry.

1. L. Moody was the son of an alcoholic who died when Moody was four years old. He completed seven grades of school. He said of himself: “I know that other men can preach better than I can. All I can say is that when I preach, God uses me.” And God did—more than a million came to Christ through Moody’s ministry.

Billy Graham said of himself: “I have often said that the first thing I am going to do when I get to heaven is to ask, ‘Why me, Lord? Why did you choose a farm boy from North Carolina to preach to so many people, to have such a wonderful team of associates, and to have a part in what you were doing in the latter half of the twentieth century?’ I have thought about that question a great deal, but I know also that only God knows the answer.” And he preached to more people than anyone in Christian history.

Why did God use them? Because they submitted themselves to the Lord in humility.

Who will be next?

Quote for the day:

“It is the possession of a joyful and genuine humility that alone enables us to receive grace.” —Bernard of Clairvaux (1090–1153)

Our latest website resources:

• Scientists find possible life signature on distant planet
• Who is Abrego Garcia, and should he have been deported? The answer is complicated
• George Clooney, Nico Harrison, and the peril of popularity
• Yet again, I’m not on Time’s “most influential people” list: A reflection on prosperity, persecution, and true success
• What evangelicals can learn from the Harvard controversy

Denison Forum

Harvard is America’s wealthiest and oldest university. Long viewed as an icon of higher education, it is in the news these days for a very different reason. Earlier this week, the Trump administration announced that it would withhold $2.26 billion in federal support for the university. The next day, the administration threatened to withdraw the university’s tax-exempt status as well.

This after the university stated it would not acquiesce to a list of demands regarding antisemitism, diversity, equity, and inclusion on campus and in admissions and faculty hiring.

According to Harvard President Alan Garber, the administration’s demands amount to “direct governmental regulation of the ‘intellectual conditions’ at Harvard.” Critics point out that, because Harvard is a private university, the government has no obligation to provide funding for it and a right to fund only those programs and initiatives it considers to be in the public’s best interest.

How do Americans view Ivy League schools?

My purpose in responding today is to focus less on this debate than on the cultural context in which it is occurring.

Ten years ago, 57 percent of Americans said they had a “great deal/quite a lot” of confidence in higher education in the US. Today that number has fallen precipitously to 36 percent. Over the same decade, the number who said they had “very little/none” has more than tripled, from 10 percent to 32 percent.

Within the spectrum of US colleges and universities, community colleges are viewed the most favorably at 79 percent, followed by trade and technical colleges at 78 percent. Public colleges and universities are viewed favorably by 68 percent of Americans, and liberal arts colleges by 54 percent.

At the bottom of the list stands Ivy League colleges and universities, with a mere 48 percent favorability rating.

The ideology at the heart of the issue

Of all the factors that contribute to this trend, the issues confronting Harvard are especially foundational. Since Hamas’s murderous October 7 invasion of Israel, Americans have witnessed pro-Hamas student demonstrations on campuses around the country, but especially in the Ivy League. Diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) programs have also been highly prominent and controversial on the same campuses.

These demonstrations and programs are fueled by an ideology that is opaque to most people but has become foundational for elite higher education.

In the 1970s, a movement called Critical Theory (CT) began gaining a foothold in academic circles. Its origins go back to Karl Marx, who believed everything is based on sociology and economics.

Marx argued that workers are oppressed by the companies for which they work and the ruling class that owns and operates these companies. He claimed that the way forward was for the workers (whom he called the “proletariat”) to overthrow their rulers (whom he called the “bourgeoisie”) to establish a “classless” society.

CT advocates in the US have applied this worldview to class distinctions within our democracy. Diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives intended to favor minority groups are a significant consequence of such thinking.

In addition, CT in geopolitics views people as either colonizers (oppressors) or those who are colonized (the oppressed). Applied to Israel and Hamas, it claims that Israel is the oppressor and that Hamas is defending the oppressed Palestinians. Whatever we might think of Hamas’s violence on October 7, its advocates claim, we should see it as a response to Israel’s violence against Palestinians over the years.

If all of this seems highly abstract, speculative, and irrelevant to your daily life, you’re making my point.

My experience with Harvard students

When I was considering options for my PhD in philosophy of religion, Harvard was on my list. Like many in the academic world, I was impressed by its history and intellectual vigor. The university was known as a community in search of unfettered truth.

In fact, its motto, Veritas, is Latin for “truth.”

I chose not to consider Harvard primarily so I could study with Dr. John Newport, one of the finest evangelical philosophers in America. My time with him at Southwestern Seminary was all I hoped for and more. But I often wondered what I would have experienced if I had pursued my degree at Harvard. A few years later, I was privileged to deliver a lecture series at a church that is part of the larger Harvard community, where I had fascinating discussions with students who welcomed my evangelical perspective.

If that was then, this is now.

In a recent survey taken by the Harvard Crimson (the university’s newspaper), more than three-quarters of the faculty surveyed identified as “liberal” or “very liberal.” Only 20 percent considered themselves to be “moderate,” while only 3 percent identified as “conservative.” Among students graduating from the university in 2023, only 15.4 percent of men and 8.7 percent of women considered themselves to be conservative.

This at a time when self-identified “liberals” comprise only a fourth of Americans, while 37 percent identify as conservative and 36 percent as moderate. It’s easy to see why many people consider schools like Harvard to be out of touch with the rest of us.

“He reasoned with them from the Scriptures”

My purpose during this Holy Week is not to prescribe a solution to the controversies surrounding Harvard today but to learn from them.

Like advocates of ideologies driving the culture on many elite campuses, followers of Jesus can seem irrelevant to the rest of our secularized society. We believe that a Jewish rabbi who was executed by Rome twenty centuries ago came back to life and is relevant to every dimension of our lives today. We further believe that everyone we know needs to know our risen Lord.

Having grown up in a family that never attended church, I remember how outlandish such claims seemed to me when I first heard them. If the Christians I met had refused to engage with me on my terms—answering my questions and helping me understand their beliefs—I would have remained lost.

Here we can learn from the example of Paul who, when he came to the Greek city of Thessalonica, “reasoned with them from the Scriptures, explaining and proving that it was necessary for the Christ to suffer and to rise from the dead, and saying, ‘This Jesus, whom I proclaim to you, is the Christ’” (Acts 17:2–3).

Note his strategy: he reasoned with them (translating the Greek dialegomai, to dialogue or converse) in a spirit of genuine conversation and inquiry. He did so by explaining (“opening up for understanding”) and proving (“persuading through evidence of truth”) the message of the gospel.

As a result, “Some of them were persuaded and joined Paul and Silas, as did a great many of the devout Greeks and not a few of the leading women” (v. 4).

“Run to and fro everywhere, holy fires”

Now it’s our turn. Across this Holy Week and all the weeks that follow, let’s not assume that people know what we know or care about what we care about. Rather, let’s look for opportunities to help people understand God’s love in Christ. Let’s make clear the truth of the gospel and demonstrate its relevance through our compassion and integrity.

We can stand for veritas because the One we worship and serve is “the” truth (John 14:6).

St. Augustine encouraged us:

“Run to and fro everywhere, holy fires, beautiful fires; for you are the light of the world, nor are you put under a bushel. He whom you cleave unto is exalted and has exalted you. Run to and fro and be known unto all nations.”

How will you spread your “holy fire” today?

Denison Forum