https://broadwayunited.org/pathway/

Broadway UMC - Pathway, 1323 Melrose Street, Bowling Green, KY (2026)

08/31/2026

A God With Consequences

I grew up the preacher's kid of a prominent pastor in a prominent church in a small town. There were expectations. Sunday morning services were formal. Dress up. Behave or there will be consequences. There was a spanking chair in a dark corner of my parent's bedroom where the consequences got real.

Once a quarter we observed communion. All the resident PhD's lined the front of the sanctuary in black suits and dark neck ties to read the liturgy from matching black books. For this grammar school boy, it was intimidating to say the least. Talk about ramped up tension. Do this right or pay the price when you get home.

I've prepared, served and participated in communion services my entire ministry. But time has not deactivated my inner triggers. I can feel the panic igniting. Am I worthy? In these proceedings, will I get my part right? Voices in my head can so easily drown out the deep, life-changing potential for grace in the moment.

In the tender years, when God is presented with consequences, we're talking deep cuts. I'm not alone in this. After 20 years in the recovery community, I'm convinced a significant chunk of our inner-wound-pie-chart happens because “God's” people weaponized God's name.

I know, everybody has a backstory. Hurt people hurt people. I'm good now with those who came before me. But forgiveness doesn't eliminate the residue. It wasn't my fault. It is my problem. If I'm not finding healing, I will just keep passing along a God with consequences.

“Come unto me all who are weary and worn down. I will give you rest.” This is what Jesus told people who had been living under the heavy hand of church police. The ones armed with a God with consequences. Behave or else. Jesus reminded us that we were created to find our solace in God. Not his back hand.

God's approach has always been invitational. It is religion that has made him demanding. Think about it. A God who gives us room to choose is bigger and better than one who drives us with a bullwhip. Jesus invited (not demanded) his disciples to follow him. The world was forever changed because they did.

We shared communion last night at Pathway. I wore a ball cap and sat on a stool. No formality. No consequences. Just an invitation to physically take Jesus into our bodies, to collectively affirm that the power to live a good life cannot be self-generated. He is the vine. We are the branches. It will always be as real and basic as taking in bread and wine. I was not even a tiny bit triggered by any of it.

08/24/2026

Connection

Artificial Intelligence. Some are saying it's the best thing since sliced bread. Others treat it like a Tornado Warning. Much like when they introduced electricity, it is coming. We don't really have a choice. We do need to figure out how we're going to live with it.

Advertised upsides: saves time, eases work load, offers quick solutions, is more efficient and productive, enhances order and organization.

Feared downsides: saves time, eases work load, offers quick solutions, is more efficient and productive, enhances order and organization.

AI can't cry real tears by the bedside of a loved one. Can't ride a horse Grow a garden. Comfort a child in meltdown. Provide the gift of actual presence. Sit in the flawed brokenness of humanity. Relate to God. Wait with me. See me. Hear me … like really hear me. Any humanity AI tries to produce is artificial.

AI can't grasp that God built us with the onboard need for connection. I connect with myself when I work hard. Have to wait. Struggle to find answers. Live in the chaos of life. All of this helps me realize who I am. I can't rush any of it.

We can't survive solitary confinement. Without others, our humanity slips away from us. We forget who we are. Our value. Our uniqueness. Our complexity. Our collective beauty. Our ability to collaborate, create and problem solve. AI can be efficient. But we are our best selves together in the wait and the mess.

A fellow pastor told of a calming AI voice offering to pray for someone. What? My question would be, can AI know God personally? No doubt, it can spit out concepts and information about God. But when I'm hurting, I need an actual Comforter who lives in me. I don't need artificial salve.

We can debate all day long whether social media connects or isolates. It's a trade off. Can go whichever way we ask of it. Those who care are still figuring out how to navigate these waters. We will do the same with AI. It will likely be the rage for a while, then lose steam. At least with a lot of us.

We will continue to dance. Host backyard cookouts. Go on hikes. Sing in the choir. Revel in sunsets and rainbows. Wade creeks. Create recipes. Weep together. Laugh at stupid dad jokes. Talk with God. Raise kids. Visit on the porch. Help each other die. There is far too much genuinely good stuff around that connects us. We will never drive our tent stakes very deep in the artificial.

08/17/2026

Difficult People

Do you have that person who dominates every conversation? It's always about them. Or the disruptive one who starts rumors and casts blame? Or the person who ducks for cover when there's work to be done? Never does their fair share. Then there are the know-it-alls. Loud-mouthed and opinionated.

We'd like to think life would be perfect with them not in it. At least smoother. They're the glitch in the program. Fly in the ointment. Hair in the biscuit. Burr under the saddle. Pebble in the shoe. (Additional metaphors upon request.)

Can you identify? You may work with a difficult person. Play on the same team. Live next door to them. Be married to one. Raised by one. Whatever the case, there's no escape. You can count on it. They will be relentlessly problematic.

We need to draw a line here. We're talking about life's challenging people. Not in the same league as those who are downright dangerous. The ones whose lies cause collateral damage. They abuse. Destroy. Steal. Hold others hostage. They're not just difficult. They're harmful. We need to create some space here.

Let's get real. We've all tried to “help” that difficult person. Interrupt them. Correct them. Ignore them. Appease them. Who can count the ways we've come up with to manage them? How's that working?

In my Jr High days, somebody described a certain difficult person as sandpaper placed in my life to smooth down my rough edges. I've never forgotten that tidbit of sage wisdom. It has taken on a deeper meaning as I've aged. Certainly in time I can figure out how to live with someone's abrasive qualities. Tolerance comes to mind. This only scratches the surface. Going deeper, what does my struggle with an inconvenient individual tell me about myself?

1 Do I feel as if they're threatening my ego? Around them, do I feel the need to defend my self-worth? Does this boil down to me feeling insecure?

2 Do I feel compelled to control them? Correct them? Fix them? Groom them? Is this me trying to create a person more to my liking?

3 Or maybe this is an oil and water thing. Competing personality types. Careful versus impulsive. Seasoned versus green. Artistic versus mathematical.

I can't change a difficult person. I can be aware of why I feel they're difficult and maybe make a few onboard changes.

08/10/2026

Lost in the w**ds …

I watched a hunting video the other day where two guys tracked a moose through head-high Alaskan willows. Visibility was maybe five feet in all directions. Mind you, a bull moose can do grievous bodily damage if so inclined. A little nerve wracking to watch this one play out. Not scripted. Real time stuff.

Ever been lost in the w**ds? Maybe not looking for a moose. Just lost. In the w**ds. No map. No road signs. No clearly marked exit. Just w**ds. How'd you get here? Where do you go now? Swirling emotions cloud your head. Confusion. Fear. Panic. Frustration. Maybe a little anger. Brain fog on steroids.

And what if someone saw you wander into that patch? What are they thinking about you? That you're stupid for getting yourself lost? That most people would have known better? Or at least know the way out.

The reasons for these patches are all over the map. Relationship breakup. Job loss or change. Aging. Child's first day of school. Bad medical report. Financial loss. Fatigue. Moral failure. Political climate. Illness. Low self esteem.

Weeds, the thick variety, are no respecter of persons. It doesn't matter about your gender. Your age. Your race. Your economic standing. Your popularity. We all get lost in the w**ds from time to time. Unavoidable. Welcome to humanity.

As usual, Mr. Blog Writer lays out the issue then offers a few “suggestions” that point forward. But what if Mr. Blog Writer also gets lost in the w**ds? Wouldn't his “suggestions” be about as useful as an out-of-gas chainsaw?

Well, one thing for sure, this too shall pass. In time a person becomes familiar with the w**ds. We may not like them. We're just more aware of where we are when we're in them. January feels fragile. April gains steam. August, the bottom falls out. There's an ebb and flow to life. We learn to work with the tides.

Even on high alert, we all wind up lost. This isn't about perfecting a strategy for w**d avoidance. Because really, what kind of joy is there in a life obsessed with flawless navigation? That feels more like the Amazonian jungle than a patch.

When I don't know where I am, I go with what I know for certain. God is good. God loves me. God is here. I don't have to see, hear or feel him for any of this to be true. I go with the history I share with him. For the duration, these three God-realities have never wavered. There is no patch of w**ds big or dark enough to overshadow what I know to be true.

08/03/2026

Superstition ain't the way.

Stevie Wonder wrote, “Very superstitious, writings on the wall. Very superstitious. Ladders 'bout to fall. 13-month-old baby. Broke the looking glass. Seven years of bad luck. The good thing is in your past. When you believe in things that you don't understand, then you suffer. Superstition ain't the way.”

This word makes us squirm. We may be skeptical. Even suspicious. On a whim, look into a conspiracy theory from time to time. But we're not superstitious. That's for the backward. The under-educated. The uncultured. We get angry when someone aims this word in our direction. “That's not me!”

Just a few minutes into a conversation with someone, there are clues. This person is free and open. Or they're afraid of something. Life is lived in one of two directions. Curiosity that explores what's around the next corner. Or fear of a monster behind every bush. The “what-if's.” What if this is out to get me? Or, what if this could lead to something new and helpful?

This goes way past optimism vs pessimism. This is about huddling in fear, viewing the outskirts with an anxious eye. Can't allow ourselves to think that way. Admit to that emotion. Get too close. Starting to feel superstitious, isn't it?

I fear what I can't control. Gotta stick with people who color inside my lines. Believe in a God who behaves the way I expect him to. I can't touch anything that might jeopardize my chance at good fortune. Any day now, I'll get it just right. Don't jinx my roll. It would be bad luck to venture where I don't know.

We keep this superstitious bent in the same pocket with our phobias, prejudices and preconceptions. All fear-based. Self-protection that passes by on the other side of the road instead of stopping to investigate (to help). Forever on red alert.

Admittedly, there's a vibe to this word. I may identify with some of what I've read so far. But superstitious? No! I don't freak at black cats crossing my path. I'm not that word. Truth is, we all have our black cats. We freak around those people. That topic. That church. Folks who vote that way. Conversations about that.

Superstition is passed down through unhealthy relationships. And it will be healthy relationships that get us on track with hope and healing. Flying solo, I just keep trading one superstition for another. We need each other to stay grounded enough to explore possibilities. We're talking about solid community where no question is out of bounds, no topic is taboo and no people are untouchable. 'Cause, superstition ain't the way.

07/28/2026

Demographics

Not a big fan of this term. Has a pushy feel to it. Like we're being crammed into pigeonholes. Truth is, when we come home to roost, we do tend to cluster with others who land the same place we do.

I'm a 70 year old white man reprocessing my religiously legalistic upbringing. I see life through my lens. So, in Thursday's Teaching Team, when a room full of pastors dig into a scripture passage, I approach it from my demographic.

I instinctively assume everybody else in the room views life, God and reality like I do. They surely see how this story unpacks in my demographic. Then somebody else in the room says, “No, this is about Jesus' radical break with male superiority and strict gender roles.” Wow! I never saw it that way.

These moments lead to discovery, individually and communally. They can also knock us back. Make us set our jaws and clench our fists.

There's the ought factor. “In this passage, these are the weak and misinformed people. This is clearly the lesson Jesus is teaching. You see it my way … right? It's plain as day to me and should be to you as well.”

The driving force behind that last paragraph is a fragile sense of worth. I feel disrespected and invisible when you don't see it my way. You un-emphasize me when you don't emphasize what I emphasize.

No shame in any of this. It's the world we live in. Each of us has a back story and a context we live in: rich/poor, female/male, rural/urban, north/south, old/young/in between. Very human to assume others would see life from our perspective.

Moving forward, how do we maximize fruit and minimize collateral damage?

1 Self-awareness would be a healthy place to start. Faced with an alternate or opposing point of view, can I own up to my tunnel vision? How long does it take to catch myself being myself? Like, “There I go again.” Might want to hit pause.

2 Can I see and hear the other person without judgment or expectations? Take my agenda off the table so I can focus on them. Dare to invite some fascination. A little curiosity. Enjoy a fresh take on things. Learn something new.

3 This only happens with generous, undeserved grace. No score keeping. Just give-and-take community. Everybody wins when nobody has to win.

07/20/2026

Garden Variety Addictions

We drive past this word on the other side of the road. Like it has a smell to it. Addiction is for inferiors and weaklings. How about we sit with it for a few minutes. What if there's a scale? On one end are extremes like M**h or He**in. On the other are those garden variety addictions.

We don't want to identify with the obvious, like drugs and alcohol. Easy to spot, unless we're caught in the grips, in which case we deny, hide or overcompensate. It's the subtle ones we're going to explore this time. And there is no need to shame or deny. This is more about embracing our humanity.

Scenario: you're worn out and the only one in a room. There's a bar stool, a straight backed chair and your soft recliner. Who doesn't fall back in the recliner? Our brains are wired this way. We order our favorites off the menu. Listen to the music that pleases us. Stick to familiar routines. Go with what we know.

Even in the chaos of parenthood, we find ways to navigate the spills, boo-boos and misplaced homework. Feeling overwhelmed becomes our routine, at least for a few years. It's a freak'n marathon. But when they grow up and launch out, talk about an empty hole? Didn't see that one coming. Feels like withdrawal.

No matter how crazy it is, I get addicted to my normal. Maybe there is a litmus test. I know I'm addicted if I go through withdrawal. I realize this stretches this addiction word past its scripted usage. But in so doing, it helps me see how tightly I cling to my normal. I'm addicted to the way it is.

Who wants to jump blindly into the future? New job? Home without kids? Death of a friendship? Growing old? We dig in against any radical shift. I like what I like. Don't you? So, what do you and I still have left? Two things come to mind …

God is the one constant that can never be taken away from us. “His steadfast love endures forever.” He's good. He's here. He cares. He was here before we got here. He's graciously dealt with human struggles from the get-go. In Jesus, he came close with empathy. And today, his Spirit is still here with us.

Secondly, none of us have to do life alone. Sure, we can isolate. Or we can link arms with our trusted people. No more flying solo for me. I'm blessed with a beautifully awesome group of fellow travelers. They often label me as their “mentor”. Hmm? Then why am I the one who feels like the student? I'm guessing this is what linking arms looks like, walking with my people as together we face our “garden variety addictions”.

07/13/2026

Be real. Be loved.

Life is complex. No argument there. How to navigate the twists and turns without capsizing? It gets tricky. We lose ourselves, don't we? Fall out of the boat. Forget who we are. What we're about. Why we're here.

I'm currently in one of these stretches. This heavy, yet nonsensical, load of responsibility. Struggling to fall asleep in the wee hours. Fighting that feeling there's something I should be doing. A good therapist would call this obsessive

Have you been here before? Welcome to humanity. I have my people who understand me. They're helping me regain my footing. I'm looking back on the times I've traveled this same stretch. With me it goes back to these two dynamics. Am I being real? Am I being loved?

This “real” component. Am I lying to myself about myself? Trying to be someone I wasn't designed to be? Attempting to do what is not mine to do? Out to prove myself? Am I listening to the wrong voices? It feels like I may be forgetting who I am. There is only one real me. Where is that guy? Maybe just asking these questions is me refinding myself. (Is that a word?)

Truth is wonderful. Truth is scary. Comes as a package deal. But we will never find freedom to be ourselves until we get real. And we'll likely need some help getting there. It's all worth it. Authenticity is a high value treasure.

Now what? Here we are out in the open in full view of everyone. Nowhere to hide. Naked is how we come into this world. Just not very comfortable at this point in the game. Much like at our infancy, we cry out for those we hope will be there for us. We got real. Will they love us?

Authenticity minus love is dangerously lonely. A place where we wither and die. Once they know the real me, will they walk away? Dismiss me? Try to fix me? Laugh at me? Or will they pull me in for a hug? As I said, I have my people. They know the real me. They love the real me.

This happens because they are really good people. But none of that matters if I won't let them love me. I could mistrust them. Not want to be a bother. I could clench my fists, set my jaw and try to fly solo. The music happens when I let them see me and then let them love me. This depth of love can only happen when I get real. Otherwise, they never know for sure who it is they're trying to love.

07/07/2026

Reverent Intimacy

We have a God who with a word creates light, life and everything in between. Back at the beginning of the story, we get to watch. But only a few paragraphs later, this same God shows up for what becomes daily walks. We get the idea Adam and Eve waited like excited kids for these encounters. Mostly because that one day when they weren't waiting, God got curious and came looking.

Over the years I've become more drawn to and fascinated by these two God-realities. He's huge and he's here. His enormity melts us. But when he cuddles kids and washes feet, we want to rush in for a hug.

God can flex for sure. Creation. Plagues in Egypt. Parting Red Sea. Moses on Mt Sinai. Elijah on Mt Carmel. Isaiah in the temple. Jesus' Transfiguration. Empty tomb. Upper Room. Paul's Damascus road. We can't recreate any of these. We can remember. And these memories anchor us in what God can do.

But in the middle of a dark troublesome night, drowning in depression, fighting anxiety, waiting on a medical report, grieving a loss, I need to know our high-and-lifted-up-God is available. Isn't this why Jesus gave us the Comforter who he promised would be in us? The God we revere invites us into intimacy.

Our imagination is captivated by a God like this? One we fear and embrace at the same time. One who both confounds and comforts. One who unsettles yet knows us by name. We lose ourselves trying to comprehend him, all while finding ourselves in him. Wonderfully mystified. Thoroughly secure.

Psychology would try to explain this away as some innate human need for the supernatural. Theologians habitually catalog it into systems. Good luck with that. It's all too extraordinary to calculate or manage. Not a formula we'll ever figure out. More like a great big God who comes and sits down next to you and me.

Scripture is full of it. God is immense. God is intimate. His intentions toward us are what pull all this together. This great big God did not create us to employ us. He's not out to critique or judge us. He never fetters or enslaves us. He doesn't need to get something from us. He put us here to forever give himself to us.

You and I will always mess up. God sees this coming before he fashions any of us. Still, from our childhood, he relentlessly doubles down on loving us. It may feel mysteriously vague at times. Looking back, God has never used his divinity to shrink or damage any of us. Only help and heal. And this keeps happening as we walk in reverent intimacy with our Creator.

06/29/2026

Love on Command

Last week my wife and I were talking with a young guy about how we enjoy loving on people. Making sure they know they are seen and heard. Speaking out our appreciation with compliments and encouragement. This goes for everyone.

He had told us of his religious leanings. The church he grew up in is hardcore. Keeps the rules. Tows the line. Our conversation was spinning his mental wheels. We could see it in real time. After a few minutes and with a slight look of bewilderment he blurted out, “Well, we are commanded to love.”

His words have bounced around in my head ever since. Armies march on command. Obedient dogs roll over on command. But really … love on command? I will be kind to you, not because it's in my heart to do so. It's out of duty. I will forgive you, not because I want to. I've been told I have to.

You could fit what I know about love in a thimble. I'm not ignorant on purpose. I just need things to make sense in an orderly fashion. Love refuses to follow my inclinations. So, I often miss out on love even when it's right in front of me. Or I thrash around when I feel it tugging me in an uncomfortable direction.

So, admittedly I'm no expert when it comes to love. But loving on command seems to miss the point. Has no magic. Imagine some marriage manual telling me to give flowers to my wife. So I hand her a bouquet with an attached card that reads, “The book I'm reading said I'm supposed to give these to you.”

Books, poems, songs and sermons about love have all come across our table. We've examined love through microscopes and a wide-angle lens. But love will never find a home in us just because we grasp a concept. Nor will it be captured in a feeling. And it certainly won't stay shackled to a regulation.

Love begins with God. He doesn't love me because he's compelled to keep some rule. He loves me because it is in his nature. Who he is at his core. He doesn't have to love me. He chooses to over and over. And he freely offers me the choice to either receive or resist his love.

And it's when I do decide to receive God's love that I'm able to get out of my own headspace to actively see and hear the person in front of me. Our moment over-powers my drive to maintain my own mental and/or emotional equilibrium. There is a momentum and flow to all this. Love begets love that begets love. This never leaves me with a shortage. More like a surplus. Lands me light-years away from trying to adhere to some command.

Broadway UMC - Pathway

08/31/2026

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07/28/2026

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