New World

“New World…across the frightening waves of blue…”

This lyric from folk singer/songwriter, David Wilcox, best describes the emotions that my wife and I have felt over the past several weeks. Almost a year ago, I felt the Lord leading me through the beginnings of an uprooting process. A process that I knew would probably take me away from my 15-year shelter of student ministry and into something new…something different…something frightening. A few months into the journey, I suppressed what I understood to be the leading of Jesus. I began to make my own list of reasons why “now” would not be a good time to make a move:

1.       “But Jesus, my family and I love the Hendersonville community.”

2.       “Our boys just started a new school and are completely in love with it!”

3.       “The housing market couldn’t be in a worse condition to sell.”

4.       “I’m genuinely excited about the direction of our pastor and where our church (FBCH) is headed.”

5.       “When it comes to the local church, all I’ve ever known is youth ministry.”

6.       “Lord, surely you wouldn’t want us to move our kids farther away from grandparents and other family?”

The sadly ironic part of this “reasoning with God,” is that for over a decade now, I’ve been teaching/telling students to obey God…no matter the cost. Students in Nashville, New Orleans and Hendersonville have heard me for years say things like, “Since Christ died for us, we can at least surrender our lives to Him” and “Are we giving God the freedom to place us in any city or any context of His choosing for His Glory and His Gospel?”

Tenderly, but clearly, it was as if God was saying, “Crawford (apparently the Creator refers to me by last name), you are really good at pointing others to truth, but are YOU willing to live it out yourself when the task becomes uncomfortable?”  Submission. That was the word that came to mind. Was I going to submit myself to the leading of the Holy Spirit…or was I going to justify why a vocational/geographical move was unwise?

We have chosen to obey. Not because we have all things figured out, but because we know the One who does. As our family and I say goodbye to a community and church family that we have loved for nearly six years, we press on to what Christ has called us to next. With mixed emotions of sadness…and excitement, we look to this remarkable opportunity to shepherd college students and young adults at Wallace Memorial Baptist Church in Knoxville, TN.

We know there are saints all across the globe making MUCH bigger sacrifices than simply moving 180 miles down I-40. We know there are over 70 million followers of Christ currently imprisoned for merely proclaiming the Gospel. We know that in the time it took for me to write this blog, 9 people will be killed for religious reasons. We know that disciples in southeast Asia are risking their jobs, families and lives for the sake of His glory. Hopping from Sumner County to Knox County is a simple “adjustment” compared to these great sacrifices mentioned.

Yet as we grieve (because grieving is inevitable), we make this adjustment because we know God is calling us to make His name great through Wallace Memorial. And it doesn’t stop there…or even with the greater Knoxville area. It doesn’t stop until we join the throngs throughout the world who are risking all to make the Gospel known. We join them through our praying, giving…and going.

So my family and I, with tears in our eyes and hope in our hearts…press on and embrace this “New World.” To join Him in His work at Wallace Memorial. To make disciples in Knoxville. To make His glory known to every people group without access to the precious Gospel of Christ.

Beneath a Kenyan Sky

“It’s not fair, God. It’s not fair that I was born in America where wealth and opportunity surrounded me during my developmental years. It’s not fair these children were born into a society where poverty and HIV infection await them upon birth. I didn’t choose to be born in America…nor did they choose to be born into this environment.”

These were my initial thoughts as I walked under an unforgiving Kenyan sun into a “church” hut made of mud, sand and cow dung. In this hut I looked into the eyes of several orphans and widows who were abandoned due to AIDS, poverty, the neglect from polygamy and a myriad of other factors. As I looked upon these precious children and ladies with sadness and guilt, they returned my gaze with a look of joy, thankfulness and…hope. As they sang out proclamations of the sovereignty of Christ, I could see that the delight of knowing Jesus was enough for them.  As the village church began to feed the hungry with a desperately needed bowl of beans and rice, they asked our team to be seated.

While seated, church members brought us a large platter of popcorn and sodas. I quickly glanced at the children sitting on the dirt floors consuming what would probably be one of only three meals they would receive this week. As I looked back at the local pastor, I frowned and said, “Pastor Jonathan, I cannot sit here and eat this in front of them. That’s seems insulting.” Pastor Jonathan smiled and patiently responded, “No, my friend. It is just the opposite. They would be offended if you did NOT eat and drink. They not only want to share this meal with you…they also want to honor the Mzungus (Swahili word for “white people”) who have come to help them.”

Although I reluctantly ate my popcorn and drank my coke, I returned to my hotel room in Kisumu that evening and wept. As the sun began to set and traffic noises started stirring just out of my window in the business district of the city, I began to cry out to God. Just above a whisper I uttered, “Lord, if only those precious Kenyans knew what is in my heart. They wanted to honor me, but if they knew the greed and lust that is in this Mzungu’s soul, they never would’ve served me. If they could see what I spend my time and money on back in the ‘land of opportunity’ they would know that I’m not worth honoring.”

During the late night hours, I stared at the ceiling while being surrounded by my mosquito net and a faint breeze from the outside. I could not shake the images of the dear people I had met that day. Not only had the depth of their poverty disturbed my sleep, but also the intense joy and contentment of their hearts. It was in this moment that the Spirit reminded me of two incredibly essential truths.

First, despite my greed, lust, sin, and imperfections…the poor of Kisumu were not necessarily “honoring” my abilities or assistance for their people. They were thanking me for my willingness and obedience to be present with them in that moment. This truth should not and does not in any way weaken the importance of preparation before a mission like this one. Rather, this truth reminded me that we need to be the face of encouragement to our brothers and sisters in another hemisphere. Simply throwing our money to mission causes is not an entirely biblical model. Is our giving for the sake of meeting needs and sharing the gospel needed and even commanded? Absolutely. Yet, in addition to surrendering our wallets, Christ was very clear that we are to give of ourselves for the sake of the nations. In that moment, I learned that if we are physically able (and even cases where we aren’t), we must go to the nations.

The believers of sub-Sahara Africa needed to see our faces. They needed to know that Western Christians cared deeply for their brothers and sisters. They needed to see that our devotion does not stop with the purchase of modern-day temples of worship… and luxury cars to get us to our temples. They needed to see that we care enough for them and the gospel, that we would sacrifice, not only our money, but our time, families, and safety…to give them love, equipping, encouragement…in person. Sometimes, money does not translate these intangibles very well.

Second, my Kenyan family was also an encouragement to me. As I looked in the eyes of those widows and orphans with sorrow, their joyful stare proclaimed, “Don’t weep for us. Jesus is enough for us. Is He enough for you?” Ouch. In that moment I felt completely vulnerable. You see, many times the danger of American Christianity is that we unintentionally (and sometimes intentionally) devise an equation that says, “Jesus + (this or that) = Enough.” I don’t think we would ever say that aloud, yet functionally, we attach our “this or that” and create our own theology.

Jesus + Republican = Enough…Jesus + Wealth = Enough…Jesus + Health = Enough…Jesus + Impressive Church Facilities = Enough…Jesus + “comfortable” House = Enough…Jesus + My Safety = Enough…Jesus + the “right” College = Enough…Jesus + Freedom = Enough…Jesus + Morality = Enough…and the list goes on for each one of us.

How many of these (and more) have I attached to the new equation? Yet, these beloved Kenyans looked at me with their eyes and their lives and said, “Jesus is Enough. Living under a tree, without daily meals, without guaranteed safety, without clean water, without health care, without capitalism, without shelter…Jesus is still…Enough.” And He is more than Enough. You can sense that He is their joy and their treasure! These Kenyan believers beg the question, “Is Jesus enough for me?”

It’s easy to say, “yes” without thinking. It is easy to say “yes” in a sermon to people I hope to impress. It’s easy to say “yes” to my children because I don’t want to look unspiritual. But is He enough? Really?

Do I treasure Jesus so much that He satisfies…completely? Do I treasure Christ so much that I would risk anything and everything for His sake? Do I treasure the Messiah so much that I will do whatever it takes to point others to the only One who is worthy of our worship and devotion?

This is usually the section of the blog where I “bring it home” and make the application “stick.” But I want to leave the question right where I found it hanging in my soul:

Is Jesus enough for me?

Is Jesus enough for you? 

Two Grandparents. Five Days.

Today I woke up to the reality that I no longer have any living grandparents. Although this may be common to many, it is a new lens that I'm looking through this morning. On Friday evening, September 17, I learned that my grandfather, Leon Everett Dunsmore, had slipped into eternity. A World War II hero, a recipient of the Purple Heart and a man of God, "Papaw" (as we knew him) will be missed and his life celebrated. 


Before we even began our journey home from that funeral, my wife and I received a call that my grandmother (opposite side of the family) and only living grandparent, had unexpectedly passed away in the early hours of Wednesday, September 22. After I hung up with my sister, I held the phone...staring at the wall in disbelief while my wife wept in grief. Like something out of a depressing movie or poorly written sitcom, I was desperately trying to take in the enormity of the moment. Now, Janie Sue Crawford, had suddenly joined the ranks of missed loved ones.


In just 16 short years (or so it seems brief), my siblings and I have watched all four of our grandparents and one parent leave their earthly confines. Many days it feels surreal and dream-like. Other days...the pain is enough to leave me breathless. Either way, I'm reminded about how momentary our time on earth truly is. On the way to my grandfather's burial in the foothills of the Smokies, I remember my sister saying something to the effect of:


"Our time here is so brief and the gospel is so urgent...will we really be remembered as married, single, parent or grandparent? Or will the utmost importance be the way in which we swiftly and obediently took the gospel to all people? Our life is too short...we have to finish this thing [Great Commission]."


Of all the memories I have stored up from this past week's events, my sister's words still ring in my heart. She's right. We do spend such an unhealthy amount of time attaching labels and assembling legacies that we forget what we are here for: to glorify the One who made us and set us free. Let's back up: is it good to marry, have children, build families, do work and contribute to society? Absolutely! We can and should glorify God in ALL that we do. Yet, our primary task is to communicate the incredible and incomparable good news that God is most glorified when hearts are redeemed through Christ!


"And how can they believe in Him if they have never heard about Him? And how can they hear about Him unless someone tells them?" Romans 10:14


Life is too short. Our primary task is to point all hearts to the reality that we are designed to give Him worship alone. Guess what "Mamaw" and "Papaw" are doing right now? Worshiping. I bet that 8 & 1/2 decades felt like a vapor to my grandparents who quickly entered the heavens and found out that the worship of the King is all that matters...forever. Therefore, worshiping should be all that matters whether we live to 35 or 85. My prayer is that I worship through my obedience. Obedience to the command that ALL should know His redemption. Every tribe, every tongue, every nation. 

Woody, Buzz and "Letting Go..."

So here I go. I am beginning (again) the journey of blogging. In an age of "140 characters or less," I debated whether or not the art of blogging is still relevant to communicate my thoughts (simply because most of them aren't worth even 140 characters). But for my sanity, my spiritual voyage and the occasional 2 or 3 people who might read this blog (including my Dad), I've decided to proceed.


Although the newest and (supposedly) final chapter of the Toy Story saga has inspired this opening post, I hope to share much more than pop culture in the weeks and months to come. But...this film deserves a nod. Not only did I find myself a little emotional during the movie's third act, but also a little reflective. The creative/writing team behind this film did much more than invite us into a "goodbye" to our beloved characters...they caused us to reflect on our own lives throughout the years. Several times I've heard other viewers state, "I remember where I was in life when the first Toy Story was released."


Personally, I'll never forget viewing the first adventure of Andy's toys when I was a first year college student. Watching that first film with my Mom was a treasured moment since she would only be on this earth a couple more years past that point. The next chapter was released the year I married my high school sweetheart. And now...11 years and 3 kids later, I watched with my sons...a bittersweet tale of heroism, friendship, community and...letting go. That's the message I carried in my soul from the theater as my sons and I talked about the movie. It's all about letting go...


Although I know that there are layered themes in any given movie, I took away the truth that we all struggle with worshiping the "glory days." I am tempted (and often give in) to desperately clutch the way of life that is most familiar and most comfortable. Some days I feel that if I open my fist and let go...then my identity and my lifestyle are threatened. But that's just it...they are! Both my identity AND lifestyle must be changed in order to walk with Jesus in faith. My identity must be wrapped around the Messiah and my lifestyle must be adjusted to the Cross...not my comfort.


One reviewer of Toy Story 3 stated that the film, "isn’t some last-ditch cash grab ...this is a fitting and moving final chapter that takes the premise of the first movie to its logical conclusion." If we are following a God that takes great risks to reveal His great glory...then I must move to the logical conclusion...letting go and follow with radical abandon. After all, "Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see" (Heb. 11:1).


Amazing isn't it? A movie about a bunch of plastic characters have taught me what it may look like to not only "let go," but to willingly embrace the risky future of following Jesus. For one rare moment, we as the church can take a cue from Hollywood. Thanks, Woody. Thanks, Buzz.