As I share this update I am just setting off to begin the project I have titled Worship Round the World. The premise of Worship Round the World is that I will visit 12 different churches in 12 very different places to get to know those congregations and to join them for a Sunday service. Each of these churches will worship in a way that is consistent with Scripture, yet also faithful to the local language, customs, and culture. In this way each worship service will be unique yet distinctly biblical. I will be making the journey with my friend Tim Keesee.

This was a project I dreamed up a few years ago and fundraised for in 2019. I had intended to set out in 2020, but then the world slammed shut because of the pandemic and is only now getting back anywhere near to normal. If all goes well, the great majority of the travel will take place by the end of this year. In 2024 we will produce a book and video series based on all we saw and experienced. Our great hope is that it will encourage us all to praise God for what he is doing each and every Sunday as his people gather together to join in a worldwide chorus of praise to his name.
While we very nearly reached our fundraising goal in 2019, travel costs have increased substantially since then and we know we will fall short. If that sounds like something that would interest you, you can make a tax-deductible donation to the project through Frontline Missions. (Click and then scroll to the bottom of that page.)
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In other news, I have a new site design that will be launching in the days ahead. This is a huge project that has been underway for some time now. When it launches you will quickly see that things look a lot different, but I hope you’ll also find that things function better. I’m sure there will be some initial bugs and errors, so please just bear with me through those. I’ll have more to say about this project soon.
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Last month I undertook what I think may prove one of the most difficult things I have ever done: I changed my keyboard layout. I learned to type, as you did, on a keyboard with a standard QWERTY layout. In fact, I learned on an actual manual typewriter back in ninth grade, the teacher tapping a yardstick while together we rhythmically chanted (and typed) “A … S … D … F … G … H … J … K … L … semi.” I learned well and have been able to type at nearly 100 words per minute ever since with almost perfect accuracy. Yet it is now well-known that while the QWERTY layout may have made sense for typewriters it doesn’t make as much sense for computers. And it has the unfortunate problem of putting the most-used keys in some of the most awkward spots—spots that often require stretching the weakest fingers. I deal with significant pain when typing and, having exhausted most other solutions, decided it was time to take this radical step. 
I researched the different options and landed on Colemak (in the “DH” variant for those who follow such things). It has been extremely difficult to overcome 30+ years of muscle memory but bit-by-bit I am getting it and my typing speed and accuracy are slowly recovering. I expect it will be ages before I am back to my old speeds, but I am, at least, getting closer to being able to type at the speed of my thoughts. I am also correcting some bad typing habits and forcing myself to strike the right keys with the right fingers.
I probably didn’t help my cause a lot by also changing to a new keyboard at the same time. I picked up the strangely-named and strangely-shaped Moonlander which offers some very helpful functions, such as a way to eliminate the shift keys (thus mitigating a lot of wear and tear on pinky fingers). Anyway, the whole process has been extremely difficult and frustrating, but I am hopeful the results will be good in the end—and that eventually my brain will clue in to where the “d” key now is, since that’s the one that continues to torment me the most.
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As for the family, all is well, I think. Abby is into the second semester of her junior year at Boyce College while her husband Nate is working full time and taking classes online through The Master’s University as he works toward finishing up his degree in business. Michaela is pressing on in her final year of high school and looking forward to beginning at Boyce in August. Ryn is working full time at a coffee shop in Louisville while also auditing some classes at Southern Seminary. Aileen is still enjoying her job as a personal assistant for a neighbor who works in real estate. The Lord continues to bless us in so many ways and we continue to wish only that we might honor and serve him.

Abortion has always been an important cause to me. When I was very young my parents—and my mother in particular—were heavily involved in pro-life work in Toronto, so much so that the history of one of its pregnancy care centres (which, for a time, I had the joy of serving on the board of directors) reads like a history of my childhood. The names and the locations are still familiar after all these years.

Because abortion has been an important cause to me, I have read quite a number of books on the subject. Almost invariably, those books focus on the harm abortion does to an unborn child. And for good reason—abortion is the unjust and immoral killing of a human being. While society around us attempts to disguise abortion through a host of denials or euphemisms, the reality is plain to those with eyes to see.
But while the unborn child suffers the greatest harm, this is not the only harm that comes with abortion, and this is especially so when it is accepted and even celebrated across society. In their new book Tearing Us Apart: How Abortion Harms Everything and Solves Nothing, Ryan T. Anderson and Alexandra DeSanctis focus on the many and often less obvious ways that abortion brings harm. “While it’s essential to focus on the unborn child—whose death is the gravest harm of abortion—there’s much more that needs to be said, because abortion harms far more than the child in the womb. The case against abortion is far more comprehensive.”
Thus, in each of the book’s seven chapters, the authors highlight a different way in which abortion is harmful. In chapter one they make the familiar case that the foremost harm comes to the unborn child whose life is terminated. In chapter two they show that, contrary to the way abortion tends to be presented, it is not a boon to women that allows them to participate in society and the economy on par with men. It has not caused increased education or workplace success, and has not allowed women to thrive as women. To the contrary, it has compelled women to have to act more like men to increase their likelihood of success.
Chapter 3 makes the argument that abortion has “exacerbated inequality, perpetuating racial division and social stratification.” Anderson and DeSanctis expose the eugenic roots of the abortion-rights movement and show how abortion disproportionately affects non-white Americans and disproportionately takes the lives of girls and those with disabilities. Chapter 4 shows that the entire field of medicine has been harmed as doctors have used their technology and expertise to kill rather than to heal.
Chapters 5 and 6 turn to the rule of law and politics to show how both the legal process and the political process have been taken captive by the issue of abortion. Here they look at a number of Supreme Court rulings, the increasingly tumultuous vetting of Supreme Court Justices, and the Democratic Party’s increased insistence that there is no place within the party for those who are not pro-choice.
The final chapter turns to media to show how popular culture is increasingly showing abortions in a positive light and even how the abortion industry has consultants in Hollywood who attempt to work positive representations of abortion into movies and television. It also shows how the corporate world is taking clear sides on abortion and using their influence to promote the pro-choice cause while blocking anything that would promote the opposite. A brief conclusion calls each person to action—action that will help make abortion as unthinkable as it ought to be. Though none of us can do everything, certainly each of us can do something.
The authors of Tearing Us Apart make a fascinating, compelling, and heartbreaking case. While we all know that abortion brings ultimate harm to the unborn child, I’d suggest that few of us have thought as clearly about the many other forms of harm. But when we begin to understand this, it opens our eyes to see just how deeply and terribly society has been impacted by the presence, the acceptance, the celebration, and the near-sacramental obsession with abortion. “We all have a responsibility to ameliorate the harms of abortion—a task that starts by remembering the profound and inherent goodness of life, even in the face of suffering. It is our hope that this book will show those who haven’t made up their minds on this issue how abortion has hurt our country, and that it will equip pro-life readers with the truth so they can offer it courageously to others.” This is very much my hope as well.

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One quiet evening many years ago, I was sitting on the screened-in porch of our old family cottage when I heard the music of bagpipes. Curious, I followed the sound, which me led as far as I could go, down to the shore of the lake.  Somewhere across the water, I could hear the piper playing. The evening was quiet and the lake was still, and the sound carried so well that I could hear every haunting note with perfect clarity. Though I could not see him, it was as if he was playing right beside me.

I sat for a time to listen, quietly singing along from time to time as he played songs that told of the great deeds of Scotland the Brave, songs that yearned for The Bonnie Banks o’ Loch Lomond and, inevitably, songs that recounted God’s Amazing Grace. That night was only the first of many times he provided us with impromptu concerts, and the more I heard him play the more I grew curious to know who and where he was. One evening I finally decided to find this mysterious piper, so I got into my canoe and began paddling across the lake. I had assumed that because of the volume and clarity of the music he must be close by, but no matter how far I went, he was still just a little further ahead. The music, it seemed, was carried almost endlessly across the placid surface of the lake.
In the past year, no place has been more on my heart and no subject more on my mind than heaven. I have known about heaven since my youngest days and believed in it for as long as I have believed in anything. But my knowledge has always been abstract and my interest has always been distant. Heaven was for later, not for now, a subject that should concern me only when I was older, only when I myself was near to dying. And that was true until a single moment made heaven so very real and so very urgent.
It still shocks me to write the words: I have a son in heaven. There is much that is mysterious about heaven, much that remains opaque as we study the scriptures with clouded eyes and weakened minds. But one thing we can know with absolute certainty is that heaven is a place of music, a place of singing, a place of great orchestras and mighty choirs. In John’s revelation of what is and what is to be, he sees musicians and describes their music. He listens as choirs of men and angels sing out their praises to God. He marvels as the nations gather to fall on their faces and cry out in worship. He rejoices hearing the voice of a vast multitude singing “Hallelujah! For the Lord our God the Almighty reigns.” Whatever else is true of heaven, it is most certainly a place of music.
Of all the “normal” things I found difficult to return to in the aftermath of Nick’s death, singing was near the forefront, and particularly singing with the local church. There is something about joining voices and joining hearts with other Christians that is so very moving. I still often find a lump growing in my throat and tears springing to my eyes when we sing together. It is rare that I can get through the songs without being nearly overcome by my emotions. And I can’t help but think the reason is that the singing we do in our little congregation is not merely a foretaste of our worship in that great heavenly congregation, but a real participation in it. There is a  sense in which our worship extends far beyond the four walls of our little building and reaches to the very gates of heaven.
Christians have long affirmed what we call “the communion of the saints.” We profess that God has one people, not two. And though for a time his church exists partially triumphant in heaven and partially militant on earth, it is truly undivided, for we have all been permanently joined together through our living Savior. We profess this reality in some of our best-loved songs. In “For All the Saints,” for example, we who are on earth tell of the unity we have with those who are in heaven:
Oh, bless’d communion, fellowship divine!We feebly struggle, they in glory shine,yet all are one in thee, for all are thine.Alleluia, alleluia!
In “The Church’s One Foundation” we sing of the mysterious but still real fellowship we enjoy.
Yet she on earth hath unionWith God the Three in One,And mystic sweet communionWith those whose rest is won:O happy ones and holy!Lord, give us grace that we,Like them, the meek and lowly,In love may dwell with Thee.
And in “Blest Be the Tie That Binds” we express the truth that even through the pain of separation our unity remains undisrupted.
When we are called to part,it gives us inward pain;but we shall still be joined in heart,and hope to meet again.
Because we are joined to Christ, we are joined to one another and can have a sure and steady confidence that we shall meet again. And oh, I long to meet my boy again. I long to see him, long to hug him, long to hear his voice. I long to worship with him as we did so many times over so many years. I repent of ever thinking little of the privilege it was to stand as a family—a complete family—to worship our God together.
But I rejoice that in a very real sense we still do worship together, for we are bound together by the “blest tie” of our shared love for Christ. I have heard it said that when we sing today we are preparing ourselves to take our place in that heavenly choir. While that’s true, it’s not entirely true, for there is a sense that when we sing today we are really and truly taking our place in that great assembly. We are joining our voices together as Christ’s one people, Christ’s one church, Christ’s one choir.
And so, when I stand with God’s people to sing God’s praises, I have a new awareness that I do not sing alone. We as a church do not sing alone. Rather, when we lift our voices, we join them with the singing voices of the saints of all the ages. The earthly and the heavenly, the militant and the triumphant, the ones longing for Christ’s presence and the ones basking in it sing as one, for we are one. And as I sing I listen, for I am sure that in my heart I am beginning to hear my voice joining with Nick’s as we each take up our place in the very same choir. As the piper’s music once carried across the lake and reached my ear, the strains of heaven’s music carry across time and space to touch my heart and give me hope.