Editor-in-Chief
Letters & Essays From Justin Camp
Every January, I come back to three risky prayers — because they invite Jesus to disagree with my plans. When I finally asked with real openness, one word surfaced: with. Then a face: my 89-year-old dad. The invitation was simple — Friday lunch — and it reshaped my year. The third answer surprised me too: silence, walking my neighborhood with God.
Some places wake something in us we didn’t know had fallen asleep. They remind us that beauty is real, desire is good and the story is not winding down but opening up. The gospel does not shrink our longings; it redeems them. The invitation still stands: further up, further in — toward more wonder, not less.
Love, at its deepest, always costs something. It’s not just sentiment—it’s sacrifice, presence and patience. We discover this not just in marriage or parenting, but in ordinary, daily encounters with neighbors and friends. The “frets and rubs” of life, as C.S. Lewis called them, are part of how God shapes us — how he teaches us to love like he does. And that’s the beginning of a new kind of life.
We all want to get better. But lasting change rarely comes through self-effort alone. The road that works — the only one that really heals — is the one that starts with humility and leads straight to Jesus. It’s where weakness isn’t a liability but the beginning of strength. Don’t wait until you’ve tried everything else. Start with the only way that actually works: the right way around.
We trust lies too easily. “You’re not enough.” And we believe it. But God says something different — something truer. You’re his child, loved and seen. Created with care. Walked with daily. Maybe it’s time we stop agreeing with everything else and believe him instead. Real freedom begins when we trade the whispers of doubt for the steady voice of truth.
What’s on your heart that feels too big to pray for? Grief and loss often leave us hesitant, yet impossible prayers open the door to God’s unexpected grace.
Who’s the hardest person for you to pray for? Jesus’ command to love our enemies calls us to face those who’ve hurt or frustrated us with kindness and mercy. Moving beyond resentment isn’t easy, but every choice to forgive and show love brings us closer to living as God intended. This path transforms not just others, but also ourselves, inviting us into a deeper, faith-filled life.
Listening to God’s voice can transform everything. Israel, once an orphan on the streets of Tijuana, found his life’s purpose through an unexpected encounter. His story reveals how hearing God shapes our identity and leads us toward a life of meaning and fulfillment. Are you open to hearing him? God’s voice invites us into the fullness of life we were made for — if we’re willing to listen.
Are you feeling the weight of fear and uncertainty? Fear has shaped our national mood and has been hanging over us for years. We’ve been conditioned to worry, but what if that was changing? Imagine loosening your grip on worry and moving toward peace — toward trusting Jesus more than the chaos around you. Can you see yourself embracing a shift, one where fear gives way to a deeper sense of hope and calm in him?
By learning to write our own psalms, we gain a new tool for our faith-life tool bags. Writing mine allowed me to notice and give voice to my fears, hopes and gratitude.
Life brings about chaos, and it's easy to get caught up in the overwhelm of it all. But there's a simple reassurance worth remembering: ‘You know this is all going to be okay, don’t you?’
I know I’ll soon have more time to focus on Jenn and our relationship. What will that look like? I’m not sure. I’m also not exactly sure how to move from being an on-the-scene-type dad to more of an over-the-phone- and Thanksgiving/parents-weekend/Christmas/summer-type dad. Moreover, while I know I’ll also have more time for my friends, I don’t know what that should look like either.
Our human hearts ache so dearly for home. We pour out our lives looking and looking for it, trying to locate a place we know in our hearts we’re made for. But we remain vagabonds until we begin to view even our physical abodes as no more than temporary refuges providing respite from the pilgrim’s road — guest houses along the way — places where we live for a while and love a lot but are never our final destinations.
Jesus loves us too much not to help us face our disordered attachments, our coping mechanisms and addictions. So, to stay at his side, to match his stride, we must begin to face our deep hurts.
Maybe we can take a deep breath and slow down a bit, knowing we have eternity to experience all the things we want to experience and accomplish all the things we want to accomplish. Maybe we can take a deep breath and notice more of God’s presence in our world. And maybe we can learn to walk slow, go easy, and love well.
More than money and opportunity, the people in our lives — our family, friends, colleagues, even our casual acquaintances — are among the most precious gifts God will ever give us. Do you know that?
God is inviting you into something bigger, better, and longer-lasting in 2024 than any diet, gym membership, or list of resolutions.
Memory and imagination are necessary but not sufficient. with too much of either, I can become numb to wonder—the wonder of a present moment.
Our sufferings are always preparation for callings—which are, at the highest level, to join Jesus in his work of healing, restoring, and redeeming this world.
What makes work meaningful? When we love and serve by the power of the Spirit and for God’s eternal purpose of restoring and redeeming the entire world through love and kindness.
We're built to love. We're created by God to love the precious family, friends, and acquaintances he's put in our lives. And if we're not doing well this thing we're created to do, we violate our nature.
I've struggled with worship. For much of my life, it was the part of any church service when my mind was most apt to wander. But then, finally, some friends taught me how to worship.
In the seventh century BC, Zephaniah told us about God’s nature; to paraphrase the ancient prophet, God is so crazy in love with his children that he sings over us and dances because of us.