Where Can I Flee?

I recently came up with this new game that I like to call “Christian Concert BINGO”. As you’ve probably figured out, it’s like BINGO, but with Christians….at concerts… Ideally, it can be played at any venue, but it is definitely most applicable at events with a large number of high school students.  The list of items thus far is as follows:

·         Fedoras
·         Guy/Gal in a banana suit
·         That one person who is waaaay too old to be there
·         A group playing Ninja
·        13 year old girls in that “punk” phase (neon hair, black clothes, spikey bracelets optional)
·         Sock hats that look like animals (can be combined with punk girls)
·         The homeschool clan
·         Kid with ALL the merchandise being sold at the event
·         People talking only in year-old internet memes
·         Couple with the “Free Hugs” signs (see: Punk kids)
·         Moms with young children on leashes
·         Those dreadful “Got Jesus” shirts

·         The “cool mom” who is up front head banging to Skillet too

·         Ironic beards and flannel (for older crowds)

I sometimes get in this mood where I know what an effective ministry tool is, and can identify what is not. Or at least I think I do. The funny thing about my thinking is that it is most usually wrong. But I still cling to this idea of my infallible knowledge, because, you know, I’m right. Right?

From my spiritual high horse, I look down at those shallow salvation messages, the go-to youth ministry jokes, the dime-a-dozen Christian catchphrases and buzzwords that are geared specifically to rile up a group of prepubescent people spending their parents’ money. I look down on them and think, “This is not deep. This is not effective at equipping the saints to go out and live the Gospel.” And I scoff and turn up my nose at their efforts.  And in the meantime, I effectively excommunicate myself from the message I am supposedly trying to defend.  

As a leader in youth ministry, I have to constantly check myself. I am up on a pedestal, not one of inflated self-importance, but one of model behavior. Not a moment goes by that I don’t have someone watching, at least one pair of eyes and ears fixed on me. By looking down on the efforts that I deem shallow, I not only hinder their ministry by my own behavior, but set a clear example to those entrusted to me. Rather than inspire fire and passion for the Gospel, my example sends a message of indifference, and at worst, opposition.

It’s pride, simply put. I envision my own spiritual journey and standing to be above such “shallow words and simple truths”. I cut myself off from the message, alienate myself from the word, and close my ears to the very thing that God could use to set me straight. And even worse, I’m leading others in my footsteps. 

I’m currently walking through Romans 12 with my freshmen guys. This week we were reading through and I got slapped pretty hard by one verse in particular. Verse 3 reads, “For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you”. While I am called to test every presentation of the Gospel, I am also to understand that what might be my teaching style or presentation type isn’t the vital issue at stake. As long as the Gospel is being preached, I am to remain open and available for God to move in any way, through any medium he chooses. I am to humble myself, step down from my imaginary platform and set the example for those I’ve been blessed to lead.

So while I admit complete arrogance for my internal thoughts at these events and at all times really, I still reserve the right to play Christian Concert BINGO, because, hey, who doesn’t want Free Hugs?

For His Glory,

^“3 For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you. ⁴ For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, ⁵ so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. ⁶ We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us…” -Romans 12:3-6

Note from the Author: First of all, let me reintroduce myself after such a long hiatus from posting. I’ve been there and back again (Kenya that is) and have a gaggle of stories and thoughts to pass along. Hopefully this marks a return to sharing stories. I’ve committed myself to a post per week as well as a few hours toward a comprehensive narration of the adventures God has led me through over the course of the past few months. On that note, I’ll jump into this week’s insight.

It’s a Celebration

“I ran from God. I got into drugs, alcohol, casual sex. I had no self-worth. I was at the bottom. And then God.”

We love this. We love to hear of the extreme flip-flop of lifestyle, the radical savings. And I don’t want to go so far as to cheapen these feelings; to say that we thrive on emotional rollercoasters and love the “spiritual buzz” we get from such stories. These amazing stories of redemption are exactly what Christ came for. He came to seek and save the lost that He might be glorified.

But let’s remember one thing.

The cost of redemption for the man who’s been to hell and back is the same cost required to save the good kid.

We live in a church culture that sets its eyes on bringing in the black sheep. The poor lost souls who have wandered so far. I am willing to go so far as to say that we’ve become so focused on such a mission that we have neglected the good people. I’ll say it again.

We are letting the “good folk” rot in mediocrity in the pursuit of radical transformation stories.

Categorizing sin is easy. Ranking offense is a piece of cake. Drug addiction, alcoholism, and sloppy sex have come to define a sinner in our eyes. Romans 3:10 states clearly, “None is righteous, no, not one.” Matthew 5:27-28 reminds us that “…Everyone who looks at a woman with lust for her has already committed adultery in his heart.” Sin separates us from God. That’s the bottom line.

Because  all have sinned and fall short, all need saving. And Christ didn’t die to save only the “bad sinners”, but all sinners. One death, one outpouring of grace extended equally to all who will receive it. More sins do not add more points to the grace meter. It’s a pass/fail. A win/lose.  

I grew up thinking that because I don’t have the more visibly sordid past that I heard constantly talked about during “testimony time”, my story was less of a reason to celebrate Christ’s sacrifice. This was a boldfaced lie, yet it affected how I lived. It affected how I shared my faith with others. If I didn’t have a great story to reel them in, how could I possibly explain God’s redemptive power?

It had never been stressed to me that the young man who struggles with pornography is just as guilty as an adulterer. That the young man who thinks angry thoughts about others is just as guilty as the worst murderer. That the young man who tells tiny white lies is just as guilty as the perjurer. That a “good” young man’s redemption was just as great a reason to celebrate as the “worst” criminal.

When I finally came to full realization of what had been done for me, I couldn’t help but talk the ear off of anyone who would listen. I, I was forever separated from God until this one Jesus dude died a horrible death for me, that I might find reconciliation with my Father. And that guy? You know, the one who has all the scars of a past filled with death? Yeah, he’s standing right beside me, arms just as open, receiving the EXACT SAME GRACE THAT I AM. My sins weren’t worth the cost of a finger, or a limb, while that man’s sins were worth a gruesome death. We are equal. Sin is equal. The grace that is given and the joy that is found is equal. The celebration in my Father’s house is equal.

Celebrate, for you have been given life.

For His Glory

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” -John 3:16

I hate depressing posts, and I hate sounding pitiful, but to be totally honest, I’ve been in a slump lately. I haven’t been content at school. I have no desire to focus on my school work. I’m sitting and waiting for this summer to show up, accomplishing whatever I absolutely need to get done, but only at the last minute. I’ve become withdrawn, preferring to sit around and watch movies all day. I just feel….blah.

My spiritual life has been equally affected. My Bible study has dropped off considerably, and I haven’t had the opportunity to attend church during the past couple Sundays, due to a number of things going on. I’ve been withdrawing from deep conversations with old friends.

I feel like a pile of dry bones, blanching under the scorching sun.

I couldn’t find sleep tonight, so I reached over to my nightstand, flipped on a light, and cracked open my Bible for what seemed like the first time in ages. I couldn’t say why, but I felt drawn to turn to Ezekiel and began turning pages looking for something that might pop out at me, something that I could use to make some sense of my life.

What I found was Ezekiel Chapter 37, entitled “The Valley of Dry Bones”.

[Just a disclaimer, I never read anything anymore without having a pen handy. Sure, it makes any book I touch transform into a mess of inky blotches, but it works.]

The scene opens with Ezekiel in this broad, dusty, sweaty, hot, and miserable valley, surrounded by a gaggle of bones just kickin’ it under the sun. Clearly, whomever they belonged to had long since expired, unable to live in such harsh conditions. Anyway, the first little exchange that jumps out at me is when the Big Man™ himself asks Ezekiel, “Son of man, can these bones live?”, and Ezekiel replies, “O Sovereign Lord, you alone know.”

Pause. This seemed awfully familiar to me. I’m a big ol’ pile of dry bones. For whatever reason, I am totally unable to sustain my life on my own, especially in such harsh conditions. I have been beaten down; I’ve grown weary of walking. I’ve abandoned those around me, curled up on the ground, and allowed myself to waste away. I’ve been super pathetic. And here comes this Ezekiel guy. He nudges pitiful me with the toe of his boot and looks up, asking God if I can be restored, as only He knows.

Un-pause. The story doesn’t end here, thankfully. God commands His servant to prophesy to the dry bones scattered around him. Lo and behold, through the words of His servant, God waggles his fingers and up pop these once dry and dusty bones. Tendons, muscle, and ultimately skin begin to weave together, restoring this pathetic lot to life.

Wow. What hope that gives me.

The chapter continues on, revealing God’s awesome promise. He will breathe into us, open our graves and bring us up from them. He will put his Spirit in us so that we shall live again. And He will do all of this so that we know He is sovereign over all. He is Lord.

I can’t even express how much that promise means, or how much simply reading those words has renewed my Spirit. Look, I’m not dead. I’ve got all my organs intact and functioning. I’m simply running low on fuel. If God, my Father, can take dry, cracked, dusty bones and restore them to life, turning a field of death into a vast and mighty army, how much more can He do for me?

God, I thank you for your renewing spirit. I thank you for your mighty hand and compassion, for your desire to bring life, not death. You breathe new life into me, raising up my head and standing by me when all seems hopeless. I pray that I bring glory to you in all that I do, for you are sovereign in all things.

For His Glory.

 “‘This is what the Sovereign LORD says: My people, I am going to open your graves and bring you up from them; I will bring you back to the land of Israel. ¹³ Then you, my people, will know that I am the LORD, when I open your graves and bring you up from them. ¹⁴ I will put my Spirit in you and you will live, and I will settle you in your own land. Then you will know that I the LORD have spoken, and I have done it, declares the LORD.’” –Ezekiel 37:12-14

Today in my religion class, the teacher was discussing some points of the Christian religion. In particular, she was discussing the parable of the Good Samaritan. Hoping to stimulate discussion, she asked us to think about what the message of the story was. Her point was that this example showed that loving your neighbor as yourself was the greatest commandment, to the extent of The Law being of lesser importance. She then went on to ask what such a thing revealed about God and Christianity. A girl in my class who had shared the fact that she was atheist, having been raised in an atheist family answered her question. “It proves that God is all about love and tolerance.”

Love and tolerance.

I can’t even tell you what the rest of the class was about, as the words “love” and “tolerance” ran circles through my mind. Do these words accurately describe our God? I don’t think so.  I mean, she was half right. God is love. Period. It’s the inclusion of the word “tolerant” that had me wondering.

That particular language combination has become a powerful coupling that is used to draw heat away from the Christian message in today’s society. After all, no one wants to be seen as intolerant in a world that is growing more and more progressive. To say that God is intolerant would seem hypocritical through a cultural perspective.

But God isn’t tolerant! I know! It’s crazy, and radical, and we catch flack for saying it. The point of the matter is, God can’t stand sin. Sin is utter separation from God. Now, He does tell us to love one another. He does tell us that sin is forgivable. He does tell us that we should deal with the speck in our own eye before addressing the plank in our buddy’s. But none of these things equate to tolerance. God hates sin. Sin is evil and corrupt and wicked. To become tolerant of sin would completely undermine everything God claims to be. One thing God is NOT, is tolerant of sin.

But there’s good news! God is love. God renews and restores. As cliche as it sounds, He loves the sinner, not the sin. That is the straight up difference. God is not willing that any should perish. He has a home for us, a plan. We’re given the tool (ie: Jesus Christ) to get there. But there has to be a line. Christ is the only way to heaven. There can’t be tolerance of sin.

Here’s an illustration of my own. Not quite a parable, but maybe it’ll help clarify things.

I’m going to school to be a teacher. Being in charge of my classroom, I will want every student to succeed. I want them to all get good grades and graduate with plans to pursue a successful future (Heaven, in this example). However, bad grades (sin) happens. For me to be tolerant of bad grades would not do anything for the students. If I were to say, “Oh, all grades are totally acceptable, and you all get As”, I am letting my students down. They won’t be adequately prepared to get into college (Heaven). During graduation, when they’re sitting in the bleachers watching their classmates walk across the stage, they’ll ask me, “Teacher, why did you lie? Why did you say this was alright, when you knew I would not reach success?”

I hope that made some kind of sense. The bottom line is, there is a bottom line. With Christ you reach Heaven. With Christ, sin is eradicated. There is no room for tolerance. Tough love is the name of the game, but what a love it is. God loves sinners, but can’t stand sin. So he provided a way to fix that.

For His Glory.

“The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.” -2 Peter 3:9

I experienced acceptance this weekend.

I experienced brokenness, pain, addiction, sorrow, abuse, and forgiveness.

Over Spring Break, I was down in Memphis, TN visiting some family before I left the country for the summer. Memphis also happens to be the grad-school home of my good friend Christy. Since moving to Memphis (a far cry from her small Illinois hometown), she has gotten involved deeply with a church called Jacob’s Well.

This is the description their website, http://www.jacobswellmemphis.org/  offers:

“Imagine a place where people come together from different racial, economic, and cultural backgrounds to work together to grow in the gospel and overcome racism, addiction, and poverty. Can you imagine this multicultural group of people on the fringe and those who have compassion for our city? I can. It is called Jacob’s Well.

People who are hurting throughout our city have been turned off by religion and religious people.  Jacob’s Well is opening up the doors of a church, but offering a different experience.  Those living in poverty have received handouts for years, yet the conditions in our city have only grown worse.  At the same time, many enfranchised families desire to alleviate poverty in Memphis yet don’t know anyone personally who is poor.  Memphis is thirsty; the living water of Jacob’s Well is plentiful. What better place than here?  What better time than now?”

In this place, I met drunks, prostitutes, addicts of all kinds, and people who would go “home” to an underpass or a gutted building somewhere. As I watched and participated in the service, I felt like something was missing, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. And then I realized what I wasn’t seeing.

I wasn’t seeing judgment. I wasn’t seeing “Church Face”. I wasn’t seeing posing of any kind.

There were no snide remarks or looks of disgust. These people had been kicked around by life, but they were looking for more. They were looking for love and acceptance that (unfortunately) seemed to only be found from people who’ve done the same. These people were experiencing love in its rawest form.

The preaching that Saturday night was no holds barred. Bare and gritty, it was straight up. We know you’ve sinned. We know you’ve lost. But God remains. God has forgiven and you’ve been made new. God has called you, yes you, the sex addict, the drug dealer, the pimp. God has called you to turn and be a light to others. Give of yourselves to share with others the hope that you have found. Give all you have to help another.

It’s a far cry from many sermons that I’m familiar with. Preaching to give it all to help the dirty, the poor, and the “scary people”? No, we focus on becoming a better Christian and deepening our walk with Christ. These are all good things, but the title of the sermon at Jacob’s Well that night summed up my thoughts perfectly. “Faith Without Works Is Dead”. We claim to love others and see past their past, but I’ll bet that many people would not have felt comfortable in that building. It is so radically different.

It’s my prayer that I will love others like God loves them. I pray that I will be quick to listen, and slow to speak. I pray that I will humble myself before God and others, that I might glorify Him.

For His Glory.

 “May the God of endurance and encouragement grant you to live in such harmony with one another, in accord with Christ Jesus, that together you may with one voice glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.” –Romans 15:5-7

A few Sundays ago, I was able to go back home and visit with some very special people who had a lot to do with why I am the way I am today. These people have been my youth leaders, my dentist, my friends, and family. They’ve recently begun a new church in my hometown area. That Sunday marked the first time I had seen many of them in nearly a year. Needless to say, it hit me pretty hard. So much had changed since leaving for college, and suddenly I had so many wonderful people to update.

The new church was different than I was accustomed to, but I immediately fell in love with it. The set-up is one that might make some cringe. There was no nursery, no Sunday School. Children, and there were a lot of them, were kept in the service at the side of the parents. There were no pews and there was no praise band, instead, the service was held in the rented conference hall of a local hotel and a single keyboard provided the music. Hymns were heard rather than contemporary worship music. The preaching was expository and passionate, tears and laughter throughout the message. This was a family.

The point of this post is not to advertise or even just talk about a small-town church. Instead, I would like to focus on a very particular aspect that I noticed. A number of the families in this church have small children, sometimes up to 5 or 6 of the little guys and gals running around. Sure, they made noise, but that was considered a part of life. When things did go a bit too far, the correcting eye of the father was there to guide his child back into line. You could see the disappointment in the eyes of the child upon reprimand. These children loved and respected their parents, even from such a young age.  The children also had moments where they would creep up onto the laps of their father, looking up through innocent eyes, as if silently asking, “Dad. Do you love me?”

This was love. These kids looked at their fathers with innocent, total, unconditional love and respect. I got to thinking, why don’t I, or many of us for that matter, look at our dads like that? Maybe it’s because we’ve grown up. We’ve been hurt, let down, rejected. We learn fear and mistrust. On an eternal scale, our view of our Heavenly father is much the same. Rather than the innocent trust and love that we show in our early years as a Christian, the world has made us bitter. Rather than Looking up and asking, “Dad. Do you love me?”, we glance up occasionally and mutter, “Is this good enough? Are you mad at me yet?”

I know I’ve been in this position. I take earthly let-downs and copy and paste onto my personal image of God. I see Him through the lens of disappointment. But that is not how He is! Not by a long shot! We are sons and daughters of God. We are valuable and precious in His eyes. We were created in His image to bring glory to Him. It is my prayer that I, in my fallen, sinful state can wrap my feeble mind around this concept. I want to regain that childhood innocence and desire to please my Father. I want to look upon Him and be in His presence and not be afraid. I want to love unconditionally and trust in all areas. I want to be as a child again, in awe of my Father.

In my own journey, I hope to one day adopt the parenting practices that I saw that week in church. I want to learn the patience and discipline I saw portrayed in the actions and words of my friends. God-wiling, I can raise my children in such a way that I do not ruin the mystery and majesty of our Heavenly Father. God-willing, I can shield them until such a time that they can stand by their Father and take the world head on. God-Willing.

For His Glory.

“How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!” – 1 John 3:1

I stand on a precipice.

My human logic says to back the heck away from this ledge and return to safety. But something pulls me back, daring me to jump.

Daring me to trust.

Trusting is difficult for me. I’ve been burnt and jaded. I’ve been betrayed and let down. I’ve been left wondering what I had gotten myself into. Financial trust is my biggest struggle though. I hesitate when I don’t know where my money will come from. This Kenya trip was a HUGE step for me. I had to rely on God to provide $5,800 that I had no way of raising on my own. And He came through in abundance.

I now stand in a position where I must decide if I want to return as an RA next Fall. The upside is that my housing is completely paid for, and it’s an amazing place to build professional skills, etc… Logically, THIS is what I should be doing next semester.

The problem is, I’m getting pulled away. I feel that God wants me keeping my plans open. I don’t know why or what for, and frankly that both scares and excites me. I am anxious to see what lies on my horizon. In this past couple of months, God has been dropping blessings into my lap at a ridiculous rate. I have been given the opportunity to lead a small Mentoring group for a few local High School Freshmen. This is my passion incarnate. I’ve also had job offers for next semester. And I’ve even been asked to apply as a Peer Instructor for a class for incoming EIU freshmen. All of these things have specific focus for my career path, as well as lining up directly with my passions.

So I’m faced with a decision.

Do I stay where it’s safe, knowing I’ll be financially stable? Or do I take a chance (which isn’t really a chance if God is directing is it?) and follow my heart?

I guess when I word it like this, the answer is clear.

The moral of my story is that I ask for prayers. Pray that I can trust wholly and fully. Pray for peace in the fact that God will provide.

For His Glory. 

“So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” –Matthew 6:31-34 

I have been afraid.

I have had my fears put to rest.

I grew up in a great family, in a Christian community, and in a family-driven church. Life was easy, and I had it all together. I know I’ve already addressed this, but I want to dive a bit deeper into where that brought me.

I knew I needed this Jesus guy to save me and redeem me, and I got the whole picture of who God was. I knew he made the blind to see, the deaf to hear, and the lame to walk. But really, I could see, hear, and walk around just fine. I guess I figured that if something major popped up, I’ve got this God guy on my side.

Fast forward to half a year or so ago. Through circumstances beyond my control, I finally got it. I mean, I really actually began to get a grasp of this whole God is big deal. He had persisted, chased, and hunted me down all without exerting any effort. He was there, just waiting, yet pulling me in at the same time. It’s a crazy thing to try to explain. Regardless, He had my full attention.

Back to the story.

So I’m at this point where I know that I need God daily, and I want to be attentive and listen and do His will. The problem is that I had gone so long keeping God in a box, that I was deathly afraid that I wouldn’t recognize His voice when he called. I desperately wanted to hear and act, but my fears remained. How would I even know what to listen for when I had gone my entire life on my own (or so I had thought).

After voicing these fears with a radical group of men I met this summer, I was encouraged and reminded that I would just kind of know. God would speak to me through my passions. I accepted their advice, but still had that gnawing fear in the pit of my stomach. Would I be worthy enough to even command an audience with the God I had kept locked up for so many years?

I’ll tell you know, God really got me with this one. When I followed the Facebook link posted by a friend (a friend that I had only really gotten to know a week or two earlier) to the Choose to Invest website, I felt an absolute peace. All of my prior plans were immediately replaced with a sense of utter knowing. I would be going to Africa in the summer. The application was filled out on the spot, I was contacted for an interview within 3 hours. I had two interviews and was accepted in December. I told them in my interview, “I don’t want to sway your acceptance process, but I know I am being sent to Kenya one way or another.” I got my call December 7^th.

I wish I had the words to describe the complete and total peace that flooded me at that point, and still fills me. In that single moment, all my fears were wiped away. My passions for children, education, and service to God were met in that moment, in this trip.

Where I once kept myself up at night fretting over whether I would hear His voice, I know keep myself up in joyful anticipation for what lies ahead of me. I don’t fear for financing. I don’t fear for my plane trip. I don’t fear anything that could land in my path.

 I am filled with the peace and joy not through anything I have done, but because my Father loves my imperfect self perfectly.

For His Glory.

“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.” -1 John 4:18

My name is Ben Pertl.

I was a Christian.

I grew up in the church, in a good home, in a “Christian Community” in the Midwest. I went to school with classmates who were with me at Youth Group on Wednesday nights. They were with me at the 5^th Quarter events at the local Christian Church after football games. I went to the Church Camps, Lazer Tag Trips, and Progressive Dinners. I memorized the verses, spoke the lingo, and most importantly, knew that I was a sinner and needed Jesus Christ to save me from my sins.

But I had my life under control.

I didn’t smoke, drink, cuss, or put people down (not too many at least). I was a “good kid”. Since I didn’t do “x” or “y” and I DID do “a” and “b”, I was a better person than others. School was simple, life was easy, I had it together. And God? Yeah, He saved me and helped me when times were tough, but overall, I had it.

Now, you’re expecting some radical/horrific/drastic event that turned me back to the arms of Christ. Perhaps the death of a loved one or close friend, a brush with disaster, some illness. None of the above.

I went to college, where people drank, cussed, slept around. It was the norm. Maybe you’re expecting me to say that I dropped off the deep end and drank myself away from God.

I didn’t.

I discovered my need for God for the first time.

That’s the funny thing about grace, I guess. By all means, the shallowness of my faith should not have held me back. I should have been as lost as the next guy.

Even though I hadn’t pursued God, He had His eyes locked on me. Despite my ignoring Him, He continued to pursue me.

Through people placed in my life, little stepping stones dropped in my path where I couldn’t help but stumble into them, my eyes were opened. No longer was I a “good kid”, I was just as lost as the others, desperately in need of a daily savior, not just a one-shot sin forgiver. In comparing my worth to others, I had elevated myself, rather than comparing myself to the ultimate ruler of a flawless love and glorifying him.

God showed me His glory, and I was, and am, in awe. He opened the gates of my heart to my passion for children, my crusade for true Biblical manhood, and my desire to teach. He has me in Kenya for the summer, out of nowhere it seems. He put me in contact with folks who had a need for male youth leaders, fulfilling the passions he so carefully crafted in my heart.

I fully realize now that my life is not my own. I am not made to seek the pleasures of the flesh, but to bring glory to He who has brought life to me.

Despite my resistance and complacency, I was pursued. There is nowhere that I can hide, nothing in creation that can separate me from God’s unfailing love.

I am Ben Pertl.

I am pursued by Christ.

For His Glory.