Category: RTP

“Only be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them fade from your heart as long as you live. Teach them to your children and to their children after them.” – Deuteronomy 4:9

Looking back with gratitude so you can move forward with grace.

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Have you ever wondered why most New Year’s resolutions fail? According to Baylor College of Medicine, 88% collapse within the first two weeks. Another study suggests that only about 9% make it to year’s end.

Still, something deep stirs in us every time the calendar flips. We long for renewal, for a fresh start—something that feels like resurrection in miniature.

Many years ago, I discovered a better way to honor that instinct. Instead of drafting resolutions and to-do lists, I began taking a spiritual inventory—a brief look back at the year behind me and a fresh set of prayers for the year ahead.

It’s a sacred pause: a time to remember how God moved, to record His faithfulness, and to anchor our stories in gratitude. In ancient Israel, people built altars to mark where God had revealed Himself. My “altars” are journal pages and prayer notes that bear witness to His steady goodness.

Can you recall the three most important things on your mind on December 31, 2010? The two best things that happened in 2012? Or what you were lifting up to God in prayer?
I can. While writing this, I opened those old pages—and immediately, I was transported back. Faces, moments, prayers, even tears. And through it all, one refrain: God was faithful.

“For everything that was written in the past was written to teach us.” — Romans 15:4

Taking inventory cultivates a grateful heart. Gratitude reframes the past and reshapes our future.

So on this New Year’s Eve, skip the resolutions. Instead, grab a pen—or your iPad, or that half-used notebook—and take time to review 2025. Scroll through your photos. Jot down the highlights, the answered prayers, the surprises. Then, dream with Jesus about 2026. He loves to meet you there.

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Run the play.
Replay and capture 2025’s greatest hits.
Sketch the 2026 prayer playbook.

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Happy New Year!

“The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel” (which means “God with us”). — Matthew 1:23

Two of my oldest brothers went to high schools that took them away from home. As the youngest, I found it confusing — a roller coaster of emotions: grief and sorrow when they left, but pure joy and excitement when they returned for the holidays. I don’t remember many of the gifts we exchanged each Christmas, but I will never forget those feelings.

Their presence was the greatest Christmas present.

One of my favorite worship lyrics says, “You didn’t want heaven without us, so Jesus, You brought heaven down.” On this Christmas Eve, may the wonder of the miracle of Jesus’ birth — His choice to take on human flesh so that He could be present with us — overwhelm all our senses and become our defining reality.

Run the play. Be wholly present for others.
Merry Christmas! 🎄

“Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The LORD does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.” — 1 Samuel 16:7

The currency of God’s Kingdom isn’t wealth, power, position, or even theology. It’s influence—earned through humility, spent through obedience, and measured by transformation, not applause.

Our friends Paul and Kathy Little serve as Christian missionaries to Marines and Drill Instructors at Parris Island, SC. Together with their team, they meet these men and women at their greatest point of need—spiritually, emotionally, and practically.

When we visited the base, it was obvious that Paul and Kathy were more than welcome guests. They were beloved. Everywhere we went, Marines greeted them with bright eyes and genuine smiles. You could feel the shift in the atmosphere.

That’s Kingdom influence—the divine capacity to move hearts and shape outcomes through the quiet authority of a life aligned with God’s heart.

Paul and Kathy carry that in abundance. They are a wellspring of living water to thirsty souls.

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Throughout Scripture, God’s great heroes were stewards of this same currency—Moses, Joshua, Caleb, Joseph, David, Esther, Mordecai, Daniel, Nehemiah.
Each rose to profound influence, not because they sought position, but because their intimacy with God gave them invisible authority. They carried Heaven’s weight into earthly situations.

“For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish.
And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?”
— Esther 4:14

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While the world measures influence by reach, followers, and likes, the Kingdom measures it by obedience, faithfulness, and fruit that lasts.

Cultural influence flows from personality, charisma, and carefully crafted image.
Kingdom influence flows from presence—the presence of God resting on a yielded heart.

Social media influencers build platforms to be seen.
Kingdom influencers build altars to make Him known.

One chases visibility. The other carries weight.
One manipulates perception. The other manifests transformation.
One fades when the algorithm shifts. The other echoes through eternity.

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Run the Play

• Seek Heaven’s currency—earned through humility, spent through obedience, and measured by transformation.
  
• Remember: People don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care.
  
• Carry the presence of God into every room you enter. That’s how Kingdom ground is taken.
  

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Finding Our Place in the Story

1. When have you witnessed someone quietly influence others because of their intimacy with God rather than their position or platform?
   
2. What area of your life needs to shift from pursuing visibility to cultivating presence?
   
3. How might you “spend” your influence this week—not for recognition, but for transformation that honors the King?

“The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.”
— John 1:14 (NIV)

God is faithful, and the King is alive. He is returning soon.
Come, Lord Jesus. Come quickly. (Maranatha.)

Advent — The Holy Waiting Room of the Soul

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My paternal grandmother lived more than four hundred miles away, making her visits rare but delightful. The four young Jette boys would anxiously count down the days until Grandma Jette arrived. Our excitement grew with each sunrise.

Because I was so young when she died, I don’t remember much about her—but I’ve never forgotten the feeling of anticipation and the joy her presence brought. Pure delight.

Just as those young Jette lads anticipated their grandmother’s arrival, we now find ourselves in another season of expectation. Last Sunday marked the first of four Sundays—and the twenty-four days—leading up to Christmas, when the world pauses to celebrate the birth of Jesus.

The word Advent comes from the Latin adventus, meaning coming or arrival. It reminds us that the story of Jesus isn’t finished. The same God who entered the world once in humility will return in majesty.

This is the seventieth time my life and Advent have shared time and space. I don’t know how many Christmases remain for me on this side of eternity, but one of the dangers of things we know well is captured in the old proverb: familiarity breeds contempt.

That phrase traces back to the Roman writer Publilius Syrus in the first century B.C., who warned that “familiaritas parit contemptum”—overfamiliarity dulls our reverence. That’s the danger with Advent and Christmas: we can lose the weight of their meaning, and their power to move us.

Overcoming that kind of familiarity is one of the reasons I created Running the Play. Apprenticing ourselves to Jesus keeps our faith fresh. We intentionally adopt his way of thinking, acting, and being—training with him daily to become the kind of people who naturally do what he would do if he were living our lives.

Apprentices of Jesus who train with him daily are always running a play that takes ground from the enemy and moves the kingdom forward. There’s nothing more meaningful, satisfying, or eternally fruitful.

And it consistently yields childlike joy and wonder in me that never ceases to amaze.

Just as our childhood wonder grew each day closer to Grandma Jette’s visit, for Jesus’ apprentices, Advent is the holy waiting room of the soul—where expectancy turns ordinary days into sacred countdowns.

Run the play.
Defeat familiarity.
Live in sacred expectancy.

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🪶 Finding Our Place in the Story

1. How might a renewed sense of anticipation reshape the way you experience this Advent season?
2. Where have you grown overly familiar with the story of Jesus—hearing it without feeling its wonder?
3. What “play” is Jesus inviting you to run during this season of holy expectancy?

“Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever.” – Psalm 107:1 (NIV)

Benjamin Franklin wanted the turkey—not the bald eagle—as our national bird. I get it.

I’ve been dreaming of turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, gravy, and pumpkin pie. Growing up, we were a turkey-on-Thanksgiving family. One year my wife bought a turkey breast instead of the real thing. I know—who does that? She’s no longer allowed to handle the grocery list.

Recently, feeling nostalgic, I revisited our digitized home movies and photos. I went looking for Thanksgiving feasts and follies, and there it was—a photo of Mom basting the turkey.

Our house was always full at the holidays. My parents welcomed family and friends, and my brothers will attest to the last-minute or uninvited guests who somehow always found a place at our table. But Mom would remind her four hungry boys that it was “family-hold-back time.” Our job was to make sure there was enough for everyone.

Family gatherings can be beautiful—and challenging. We’d be wise to serve up a generous helping of grace this year. Not just the grace prayer before the meal, but an atmosphere of grace that releases our expectations of ourselves and others. The amazing-grace kind.

“Disappointment is the child of unrealistic expectations.” — Ken Boa

So what will you give thanks for tomorrow? And to whom will you give that thanks? Let’s get this party started on the right foot (or turkey leg).

Use the comment link to share something you’re most grateful for this year.

Run the Play — Thanksgiving Menu:

No unrealistic expectations, served with a generous helping of God’s amazing grace.

… and turkey 🦃 😀

💬 Finding Our Place in the Story

What are you grateful for this year?

“No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money.” — Jesus

Much of Christian fundraising today feels like used-car sales tactics with Bible verses slapped on. Ick.

Brace for impact — ‘tis the season for the annual barrage of church and nonprofit appeals promoting year-end giving. They give me the Ick.

Gen Z coined the term to describe that secondhand embarrassment or gut-level aversion when something just feels off. That’s exactly how many of these appeals land — manipulative and self-serving.

Just today, our snail mail delivered three donation requests from organizations we’ve never supported and one from a group we actually do. Every day from now through early January is “rinse and repeat.”

Then come the lunch and dinner invitations that always end with the same well-rehearsed pitch — a story, a need, and the inevitable “match gift” to sweeten the deal. Cue the arm-twist. More Ick.

This kind of fundraising is common but not biblical. Our culture’s fascination with money and influence has seeped into the Church, shaping our methods more than the Master. We rely on donor psychology instead of divine provision. The irony? Every dollar we chase still reads, “In God We Trust.”

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For, Not From

Much of this behavior is transactional — designed to get money from the donor. But the biblical model of generosity is transformational — partnership for the Kingdom.

Paul captured it beautifully when he discipled the Corinthian church:

“In the midst of a very severe trial, their overflowing joy and their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity… Entirely on their own, they urgently pleaded with us for the privilege of sharing in this service to the Lord’s people.”
— 2 Corinthians 8:1-4

The Macedonian believers gave not out of guilt or pressure but out of grace. Even in hardship, they pleaded for the privilege to participate in God’s work.

Paul himself modeled this same posture:

“I have not coveted anyone’s silver or gold or clothing… These hands of mine have supplied my own needs and the needs of my companions… remembering the words the Lord Jesus himself said: ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’”
— Acts 20:33-35

This is fundraising reimagined — not a strategy to extract resources but a call to mutual transformation through generosity.

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Faithraising, Not Fundraising

So how did we drift so far from that mission and message?

A better way begins with a better mindset — one rooted in for-ness. With the right motives and a heart aligned with Scripture, we can emphasize:

• Relationship over revenue
  
• Transparency over pressure
  
• Trust over tactics
  

That’s what I call faithraising — cultivating faith in both giver and receiver.

When our fundraising reflects the Father’s heart, it stops being an Ick and starts being an act of worship. With a Spirit-powered renewal of the mind, even our methods can mirror the mission.

Run the play.
Sign me up for faithraising.

Finding Our Place in the Story

1. What motivates my generosity—transaction or transformation?
   When I give, do I see it as a way to support a cause, or as a sacred partnership in God’s work of shaping lives, including my own?
   
2. How can I cultivate trust instead of tactics?
   Whether I’m raising funds, serving, or leading, what would it look like to approach people with transparency and relationship rather than pressure or persuasion?
   
3. What would “faithraising” look like in my sphere of influence?
   How might I encourage others to see giving not as loss but as an act of worship that grows faith in both giver and receiver?

“...but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin… What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death?”     — Romans 7:23–24 NIV

Those high school years were tough. Report card days were worse. My parents’ expectations weren’t unrealistic—which made my grades all the more disappointing. Everyone agreed I wasn’t living up to my potential. The criticism and condemnation only deepened my frustration. We reap what we sow.

The writer of Romans knew this struggle:

“For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out… For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.” Rom. 7:18–19

By God’s grace, I eventually discovered the antidote: substitute the lesser thing with something far better.

I didn’t study because I wasn’t motivated. It was painful, unrewarding, and reinforced by those dreaded report cards. TV, sports—anything fun—provided temporary relief. But when I finally experienced the lasting joy of hard-earned results, everything changed. I began trading the short-term “high” of avoidance for the deeper satisfaction of growth. I was hooked. How I wish that teenage version of me had learned this sooner.

Psychologists call this the Law of Substitution:
You can’t just stop a bad habit; you must replace it with a good one. Our brains resist emptiness. If we remove a behavior that once met a need—even destructively—that need will search for a new outlet. The key is to fill the void intentionally.

Scripture affirms this principle in spiritual formation:

 “You were taught… to put off your old self… to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.” (Ephesians 4:22–24)

Not just put off—but put on.
Replace deceit with truth. Bitterness with forgiveness. Lust with love. Addiction with worship. That’s substitution in action.

What psychology observes in behavior, the gospel reveals in redemption.
At the heart of the gospel is the ultimate substitution:

“God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.”
— 2 Corinthians 5:21 NIV

That’s the divine exchange:
Our sin for His righteousness.
Our death for His life.
Our shame for His sonship.

It’s not just legal—it’s transformational. The cross shows how true change happens: not by suppression, but by substitution.

Just as Christ substituted Himself for us, the Spirit now works in us the same way. We “put off” envy, anger, and addiction—and “put on” love, gratitude, and self-control (Colossians 3:8–10). The new nature doesn’t erase the old automatically; it replaces it through practice and grace.

In addiction recovery, this principle rings true:
You don’t beat darkness by cursing it; you replace it with light.
You don’t gain freedom by willpower; you walk in the Spirit’s power—Christ’s strength for your weakness.

That’s the miracle of substitution.
“He must increase, but I must decrease.” (John 3:30)
Substitution—in slow motion.

Run the play. Not by willpower. Practice substituting Christ’s strength for your weakness. 

💬 Finding Our Place in the Story

Where in my life am I still trying to “stop” a behavior instead of intentionally replacing it with something redemptive?
(Think: What could I “put on” instead of merely “putting off”?)

How does viewing change through the lens of substitution—Christ’s strength for my weakness—shift my approach to spiritual growth or recovery?

In what area of my apprenticeship with Jesus is He inviting me to make a divine exchange—trading my striving for His sufficiency?

Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. —Ephesians 6:11 (NIV)

“What’s the dress?” That’s a question my wife, Sharon, has asked me with every social invitation in our 42 years of marriage. We all know the importance of showing up dressed appropriately—avoiding the embarrassment of being over- or underdressed. In our culture, appearance signals readiness.

Back in 1975, John T. Molloy captured this reality in his bestseller Dress for Success. His message was simple: the right wardrobe can open doors in business and life. For the first time, clothing was treated not just as fashion but as strategy.

The Bible, however, calls us to something far greater. Not to dress for success, but to dress for significance—eternal significance. Paul puts it plainly:

“Put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.” —Ephesians 4:24

And again:

“Clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ, and do not think about how to gratify the desires of the flesh.” —Romans 13:14

The new self is who we are in Christ. The armor of God (Eph. 6) is how we walk that out daily in a world of unseen opposition.

How do we actually do this? Here’s one idea: engage your God-given imagination. Beyond our morning routines of exercise, showering, and dressing, we can add a spiritual routine—clothing ourselves in Christ.

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Dressing for Significance: New Self, Lord, and Armor

As we pray, using Psalm 51 as a “spiritual shower” and Ephesians 6 as our wardrobe checklist, we put on:

• His righteousness — an outer garment and breastplate, pure and white as snow.
• The belt of truth — our core convictions, shaping a biblical worldview.
• The sandals of the gospel of peace — walking in shalom, wholeness, reconciliation.
• The shield of faith — Paul names it a shield; I picture it as a bold red sash, flowing diagonally across our chest.
  • A sign to the unseen world.
  • Sealed by his blood, belonging to the family of God.
• The helmet of salvation — our unshakable identity: at once the laurel wreath of an Olympic victor and the crown of royal children of God.
• The sword of the Spirit — the Word of God, sharper than any double-edged sword.

Skipping this practice would be like leaving the house spiritually naked.

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“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.” —Colossians 3:12

Dressing for significance may go unnoticed by human eyes, but it is unmistakable to “the powers and principalities of this dark world” (Eph. 6:12). To them, it signals danger: the advance of God’s Kingdom and the reclaiming of ground once lost. As John wrote, “the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world” (1 John 4:4).

So before you leave home tomorrow, don’t just check your appearance in the mirror. Check your armor.

Run the play. Dress for significance.

Like the old American Express tagline said: Don’t leave home without it.

💬 Finding Our Place in the Story

In what ways do you currently “dress for success” in your daily life, and how might God be inviting you to instead “dress for significance”?

Which piece of the armor of God feels most natural for you to put on, and which feels most neglected or difficult? Why?

How might intentionally clothing yourself in Christ each morning reshape the way you engage your family, work, and community throughout the day?

“They were on their way up to Jerusalem, with Jesus leading the way, and the disciples were astonished, while those who followed were afraid.“  – Mark 10:32 NIV

When following Jesus, expect to be simultaneously astonished and afraid.

With Jesus leading the way to Germany in September, I was out of my depth and homesick. I was a part of a team that was invited to participate in two events whose primary purpose was to aid in equipping the Persian Diaspora there. Fear — or what I’ll call vulnerability — is essential for shaping our character, though always uncomfortable.

“Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God.” — Corrie Ten Boom

I’ve learned to trust Jesus because he daily leads me to places where I am vulnerable and must rely on him. It’s in those times and places where he reveals more of himself and his glory. It’s the best part of running the play.

And each fresh revelation is always astonishing!

In another act of the Father’s generosity of Spirit, he molds and shapes us more and more into his Son’s likeness. Our transformation is a miracle of his will and power, not yours or mine.

Astonishing, indeed.

As a card-carrying member of the introvert club, the long journey home from Germany, via planes, trains, and automobiles, afforded me the space to process the experience. I began to understand that what I witnessed was a modern-day version of the first few chapters of the book of Acts.

Recent converts to Christianity from Islam, these brothers and sisters in Christ were persecuted and scattered for their faith. Their hunger for truth resembles the first-century church, which includes an understanding of and desire for prayer that testifies to their strong faith and trust in Jesus. Now, thanks to my Iranian family, when I read Acts, I see and hear as never before.

With Jesus leading the way, our choices, relationships, work, and creativity become a part of God’s larger story. They are part of the raw materials of new creation, not just private acts of piety.

Because of Jesus’s resurrection, we can live with resilient hope, even in the face of suffering or loss, knowing nothing done with him, in love, is wasted. It will somehow be woven into God’s final renewal.

Running the play is just another way of saying, “With Jesus leading the way.”

“There’s a fine line between faith and irresponsibility, and at times it’s almost impossible to see.” — Carey Nieuwhof

Run the play, embrace vulnerability … and be prepared to be astonished by transformation.

💬 Finding Our Place in the Story

When has following Jesus recently made you feel vulnerable? How did that moment stretch your trust in him?

What astonished you about God this past week? Did it come through Scripture, prayer, or the witness of others?

Where might Jesus be leading you right now that feels risky or uncomfortable — and how can your community join you in prayer as you “run the play”?

For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me and for the gospel will save it.  Mark 8:35 NIV

“He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep, to gain what he cannot lose.” — Jim Elliot

It’s been ten years since I was working in Zambia and Malawi, when I became the sickest I’ve ever been. Unable to keep anything down, every slight movement sent my body into intestinal spasms. Sick, sleep-deprived, depressed, and thousands of miles from home, I wondered if this was where it would end for me

In those moments, the Lord confronted me: “Are these people you came to serve worth dying for?” In my heart, I knew I wasn’t ready to say yes. That revelation was convicting—but it didn’t come with condemnation. Being an apprentice of Jesus is a journey, and this was what you might call a “heart-check.” It showed me where Jesus was still working in me.

The good news? Jesus isn’t disappointed or anxious about the pace of our growth. Apprenticeship to him isn’t about performance—it’s about overflow. He transforms us from the inside out.

Apprenticeship means intentionally adopting Jesus’ way of thinking, acting, and being—training with him in everyday life—until we become the kind of person who naturally does what Jesus would do if he were living our life. It’s a moment-by-moment, day-by-day surrender, knowing that nothing done in love is wasted and everything is woven into God’s final renewal.

Some finish the journey sooner than others. In January 1956, Jim Elliot and four other missionaries traveled to Ecuador to bring the gospel to the Auca people, a tribe known for hostility toward outsiders. After making initial contact and seeming to make progress, the men were attacked and killed on a sandbar along the Curaray River.

Elliot was only 28, leaving behind his wife, Elisabeth, and their ten-month-old daughter. When he wrote in his journal, “He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep, to gain what he cannot lose,” he captured the heart of Jesus’ teaching in Mark 8:35 and Matthew 6:19–21.

• “What he cannot keep” points to earthly life, possessions, and status—all temporary, destined to fade.
  
• “What he cannot lose” is eternal life in Christ, the joy of knowing God, and treasures stored in heaven.

Elliot’s life and death put flesh-and-blood weight on those words. Surrendering—even to the point of death—isn’t foolish if it secures eternal joy that can never be taken away.

And that brings us here: Today is a gift. One more day to trade the temporal for the eternal. One more day to lose what cannot last, to gain what can never be taken.

Where is Jesus asking you to lose—so you can truly gain?

Run the Play: Gain by losing.

💬 Finding Our Place in the Story

Where in your life are you tempted to cling tightly to what you “cannot keep,” and what might it look like to release it to Jesus?

How does Jim Elliot’s example challenge or inspire you in your own apprenticeship to Christ?

What would it mean, practically and personally, to “gain by losing” in your relationships, work, or daily routines this week?