Pastor Chuck’s Blog

3-25-2026

I have no idea whether this story is true, or a parable. Either way, it’s worth reading because, in a way, it explains why LifePoint does the things we do. It’s a little long, but worth the read.

My teenage son asked me to drop him off three blocks from school every morning. When I finally followed him, I discovered why, and it destroyed me.

For six months, Ethan had been making the same request. “Mom, can you drop me off at the corner of Fifth and Main?” Not at the school entrance like every other parent, but three blocks away. At first, I thought it was normal teenage embarrassment. He was fifteen, in his sophomore year—the age where being seen with your parents is social suicide.

“Sure, honey,” I’d say. I’d pull over at the corner, he’d grab his backpack, wave goodbye, and I’d drive to work thinking nothing of it.

Until last Tuesday.

My dentist appointment that got cancelled at the last minute, so as I drove past Ethan’s school around 8:15 AM, I saw him walking up the front steps. But he wasn’t alone. He was carrying two backpacks: his own, and another one—a smaller, pink one with unicorn patches. Next to him was a little girl, maybe seven or eight years old, holding his hand.

I pulled into the parking lot and watched. Ethan walked her all the way to the elementary school entrance on the other side of the building. He knelt down, fixed her hair, and said something that made her smile. Then he handed her the pink backpack and watched her go inside. Only then did he walk to the high school entrance.

I sat in my car, completely confused. Who was that child? I called the school office, but they couldn’t help me. So I drove home, but couldn’t focus on anything. That night at dinner, I asked casually, “How was school?”

“Fine,” Ethan said. The same thing he always said.

“Anything interesting happen?”

“Not really.”

He wasn’t lying, exactly, but he wasn’t telling me something. The next morning, I did something I’m not proud of. I dropped him off at the corner like usual, then I parked down the street and followed him on foot.

I watched him walk two blocks. Then he stopped at a run-down apartment building and went inside. Five minutes later, he came out holding the hand of the same little girl. She was wearing a t-shirt that was too small and jeans with holes in the knees. Her hair was messy and unbrushed.

Ethan knelt down on the sidewalk and pulled a hairbrush out of his backpack and brushed her hair gently and carefully, like he’d done it a hundred times before. Then he pulled out a lunch box and handed it to her. She put it in her pink backpack, and they walked together to school, hand in hand.

I followed at a distance, crying behind my sunglasses. At school, Ethan did the same thing I’d seen yesterday. He walked her to the elementary entrance, made sure she went inside safely, and then went to his own classes.

I drove home and waited. When Ethan got home that afternoon, I was sitting at the kitchen table.

“Sit down,” I said. “We need to talk.”

He froze. “About what?”

“About the little girl you walk to school every morning.”

His face went white. “Mom—”

“Who is she, Ethan?”

He sat down slowly, looking terrified. “Her name is Sophie,” he said quietly.

“Why are you walking her to school?”

He stared at the table. “Because no one else will.”

“What does that mean?”

He took a deep breath. “She lives in the apartment building on Seventh Street. Her mom is… she’s not around much. She works nights. Sometimes she doesn’t come home.”

My heart broke a little.

“Sophie’s eight years old,” Ethan continued. “She was walking to school alone. In the dark. At 7:30 in the morning. I saw her one day, six months ago. She was walking by herself, crying. Her backpack was open and her stuff was falling out. Some older kids were laughing at her. I helped her pick up her stuff. I asked where her mom was. She said her mom was sleeping and she couldn’t wake her up.”
Tears started rolling down his cheeks.

“She’s eight, Mom. She’s a baby. And she was walking to school alone through a bad neighborhood. Anything could have happened to her.”

“So you started walking with her,” I said softly.

He nodded. “Every morning. I go to her apartment. I make sure she’s awake and dressed. I brush her hair because she doesn’t know how to do it herself yet.”
“The lunch box?”

“I make her lunch at night and bring it in the morning. She was going to school hungry. She told me sometimes she doesn’t eat dinner either because her mom forgets to buy food.”

I covered my mouth with my hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I thought you’d make me stop,” Ethan said. “I thought you’d say it’s not our problem, or that it’s dangerous, or that I should focus on my own life. But she needs me, Mom. She doesn’t have anyone else. Her mom is barely there. She doesn’t have a dad. She doesn’t have grandparents. She has me. If I stop showing up, she’ll go back to walking alone. She’ll go back to being hungry. She’ll go back to being scared.”

I got up and hugged him. “You’re not stopping,” I said. “You’re not stopping anything. But we’re going to do this right.”

That evening, I went to Sophie’s apartment. A woman answered the door—late twenties, exhausted, wearing a waitress uniform.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Hi, I’m Amanda Chen. My son Ethan has been walking your daughter Sophie to school.”

Her face changed to a mix of embarrassment and defense. “I didn’t ask him to do that.”

“I know,” I said gently. “But he’s been doing it for six months.”

She looked down. “I work nights. Double shifts. I’m trying to keep the lights on. Sometimes I don’t get home until 7 AM and I’m too tired to wake up when Sophie needs to leave.”

“I’m not here to judge you,” I said. “I’m here to help. I want to set up a routine. My son wants to keep walking Sophie to school. I’d like to make sure she has lunches packed. And on days when you’re working late, she can come to our house for dinner.”

The woman’s eyes filled with tears. “Why would you do that?”

“Because my son taught me something,” I said. “He taught me that we don’t look away when people need help. We show up.”

Her name was Jessica. She broke down crying in her doorway. “I’m trying so hard. I’m doing everything I can, but it’s not enough. I know it’s not enough.”

“Then let us help,” I said. “Please.”

That was four months ago. Sophie comes to our house three nights a week now. She has dinner with us, does her homework at our kitchen table, and plays with our dog. Jessica works her shifts and doesn’t have to worry. Ethan still walks Sophie to school every morning, but now I drive them both. And every morning, I watch my son brush a little girl’s hair and make sure she has everything she needs. I’m so proud I can barely breathe.

Sophie’s teachers described her as a different child. They described her as happy, focused, and her grades were improving. Apparently Sophie told the teacher that she had a big brother now.

Yesterday, Jessica got a promotion: day shift, better pay, and health insurance. She cried when she told me. “I can be home when Sophie gets out of school now. I can actually be her mom again.”

“You’ve always been her mom,” I said. “You were just doing it alone. Now you’re not.”

She hugged me. “Thank you for not judging me. For helping us.”

“Thank Ethan,” I said. “He’s the one who saw her first.”

This morning, Sophie ran up to our car with a drawing. It was a picture of four people holding hands. “That’s me, my mom, Ethan, and Miss Amanda,” she said proudly. “We’re a family.”

She’s right. We are. Not by blood or by law, but by choice. My son chose to see a child in need and help her. He taught me that family isn’t just the people you’re born with; it’s the people you show up for every single day.

THIS!!! This is why LifePoint invests in our community, why we come alongside single moms and hurting families, why we support Embrace Grace give food away, why we do an Easter Egg hunt and so many other things. Take a look at something Matthew recorded for us in chapter 25, verse 40:

Then the King will say, “I’m telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me.” ~Jesus

THANK YOU, LifePoint for loving like Jesus……..let’s keep it up!

3-18-2026

I once heard a story about a man who was driving down the road behind a large truck. He wasn’t in a big hurry, so he just stayed behind the truck, and in the process he noticed something strange. At every stoplight the truck driver jumped out of the cab and pounded the side of the truck with a baseball bat, then jumped back in the truck and took off.

After seeing this happen at 5 or 6 lights, the man’s curiosity got the best of him. At the next light, he jumped out of his car and ran up to the driver who was furiously pounding his truck.

He said, “Hey fella, what’s up with the ball bat on the side of the truck?”

The driver said, “It’s like this. I have a one ton truck and two tons of canaries in the cargo container. That means I have to keep a ton of birds in the air at all times or this truck won’t move.”

Sometimes life feels a lot like that truck – we have more than we can carry, so we have to keep several things “up in the air” just to move forward. I know that I’ve had days like that, and I imagine you have as well. Just remember, you don’t have the carry the burdens of life alone because God has promised to walk with us on this journey.

And when you’ve had a very long, challenging, upside-down day, remember what Matthew recorded for us in chapter 11, verse 28:

Come to me all of you who are tired from the heavy burden you have been forced to carry. I will give you rest. ~Jesus

Blessings, LifePoint! I love you all, and pray for you daily!

3-11-2026

We know that when we choose to follow God, He can do amazing things in our lives. In fact, Jesus said this:

According to your faith will it be done to you. (Matthew 9:29b, NIV)

Jesus is telling us here that God responds to our faith. If God gave us everything we needed automatically, then faith would never have a chance to work within us. But…….what does it mean to, “walk by faith”?

Walking by faith means believing when we don’t see it. Faith is trusting God for the outcome, before we see the outcome. This can be difficult, especially when we are believing for something that seems impossible. So often we are focused on our own limitations rather than the capacity of God. Part of faith is being able to look at the future, believe that God can create it, and start walking in that direction. Let the size of your God determine the size of the outcome.

Walking in faith means obeying God when we don’t understand it. It’s easy to obey God when things make sense, but faith is obeying God when things don’t make sense. Anytime God asks us to do something, it’s an invitation to believe God instead of our feelings – believe what God tells us instead of what the world tells us. Choosing to obey God when it doesn’t make sense can be scary, but if we let fear stop us from obeying, we’re going to miss out on some huge blessings.

Walking by faith means persisting when we don’t feel like it. When we are walking toward something we can’t see yet, we may feel discouraged at times. When we feel like giving up, we can remember the cross and what Jesus did for us. Jesus endured the cross because the joy ahead of Him was greater than the suffering of the moment. When we want to give up, we can remember what we are walking toward and that there is no better place to go than where He has called us.

Big dreams require big faith. Walking by faith builds the character and capacity we need to receive all that God has for us. LifePoint, I’m praying that you would be encouraged to walk by faith and take the first step toward where God has called you to go, even if you can’t see it yet.

3-4-2026

Can you imagine what it would have been like to be Noah?

I’m sure I’d have a million questions for God if he asked me to build a colossal boat because a 40-day flood was coming. I’d likely start with the whole “rain for 40 days” concept. The Bible tells us it hadn’t rained before the flood came. Rain – much less 40 days’ worth – likely made no sense to Noah.

Then I’d probably point out that I’m not exactly a shipbuilder. Couldn’t God find someone more suited for the task? And don’t get me started on the animal situation. How do I gather up every kind of creature and cram them into this floating vessel?

But Noah didn’t come to God with any of that. He didn’t once debate God about building the ark. Instead, he simply said, “Whatever you want, Lord.” The Bible says this about what Noah did after God’s call: “Noah did everything that God commanded him” (Genesis 6:22 GNT).

God called Noah to do the impossible and the incomprehensible. Maybe God hasn’t asked you to build a huge boat in the middle of dry land, but He calls you and me to take our own impossible steps of faith for Him. In fact, God specializes in the impossible. You read stories of impossible steps of faith throughout the pages of the Bible and throughout church history.

Frankly, doing the impossible is what a life of faith is all about.

If you want the world-changing life of Noah, you need his world-changing faith. It might look something like this for you: God asks you to invest in a new ministry to help people come closer to Jesus, or maybe God wants you to engage in a new kind of service that feels completely out of your element, or He leads you to serve in a new area that’s a little uncomfortable.

Let’s face it, every once in awhile God asks us to do things that don’t make a lick of sense. He calls us to step out in faith when we don’t have all the answers. At that point we have a choice to make: am I going to make excuses as to why it won’t work, or am I going to be like Noah and say, “Whatever you want, God.”

You’ll never make a difference in the world around you without stepping out in faith. The people who’ve made the biggest impact on the world have always been those who weren’t afraid to act decisively, even when they couldn’t see past their own two feet.

God gave Noah a monumental task, but He didn’t let him fall on his face. God equipped Noah to do the job He’d told him to do. God never expects us to do something without empowering us with the needed tools. We just need to ask.

Paul writes in 2 Thessalonians 1:11, “So we keep on praying for you, asking our God to enable you to live a life worthy of his call. May he give you the power to accomplish all the good things your faith prompts you to do” (NLT).

You and I will never be able to do the impossible on our own. We’re not capable. Ang God doesn’t expect us to do that either. As Paul suggests, we need God to enable us to accomplish all the good He is leading us to do. All we have to do is ask.

So let’s continue to trust God for the impossible, and continue to make a difference!

2-28-2026

“I wish life was just easier!”

Amen to that, friends! But in reality, is that what’s best for us? It’s what’s easiest, but is it what’s best. The reason I throw this out is because of this truth:

It’s only in the storms of life that you learn what Jesus is really like. You see that he’s not a mere man. He’s not just a nice teacher or an ethical leader. He is God, the Creator of the universe.

In the 6th chapter of Mark’s Gospel, Jesus notices the disciples were in distress. They were in the middle of a lake, where the wind and waves were pounding their boat and keeping them from making any progress. And so Jesus walks out to them on the water. Then Mark tells us this:

“When they saw him walking on the lake, they thought he was a ghost. They cried out, because they all saw him and were terrified. Immediately he spoke to them and said, ‘Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid’” (Mark 6:49-50 NIV).

The disciples still had some nagging doubts—maybe Jesus was just a nice prophet who could do some miracles. But by walking on water, Jesus revealed that He was far more than just a man. He showed them He was God.

He also gave them a challenge: “Don’t be afraid.” And He reassured them: “It is I.”

In Greek, the language this part of the Bible was originally written in, the phrase “It is I” is actually two words: ego ima. Ego ima simply means “I Am.” Why is that important?

The name of God is “I Am”—not “I was” or “I will be” or “I hope to be.” When Jesus says, “I Am,” He is saying that you don’t need to be afraid. You don’t need to sweat it. He is God. And that is enough.

If you’re going through a storm, you don’t need a job—you need Jesus. You don’t need a plan—you need a person. You don’t need a system—you need a Savior. You don’t need a new goal—you need God.

When you’re going through a storm, remember that God is not distant, apathetic, or uninvolved. He is “I Am.” And He will get you through the storm.