“In the beginning. . . .” can be a loaded phrase—one that forces us into debate and doubt. But maybe we’re missing the point of Genesis 1:1—a point Moses made to a world where the violence and injustice of the gods justified and legitimized the violence and injustice of human rulers. Moses introduced a radically different, unparalleled, and untested worldview.

Most of us know some Bible stories, but very few of us know the story of the Bible. And it may be surprising to discover it’s a story that doesn’t actually begin in the beginning. It begins with the accounts of a few men who sat down to record the death and resurrection of Jesus. It begins with the words of his followers who were compelled to document the events that had changed everything for them—because they knew it could change everything for us.

Only one person can ensure that we end up somewhere on purpose. And that person isn’t in the House of Representatives or the White House. They’re in our house. In fact, we look at that person in the mirror every morning. The reality is that we face our greatest leadership challenge every morning when we face ourselves.

Long before there were Christian Scriptures, there were Christians—men and women whose faith began with an empty tomb. These eyewitnesses to the resurrection experienced an event so extraordinary that it changed their lives and what they gave their lives to, forever. But now a generation is walking away from their faith as their confidence in the Bible is dismantled. They assume that as the Bible goes, so goes Christianity. Maybe it’s time we learned from the faith of those early eyewitnesses—faith that’s undeniable and, ultimately, irresistible.

We all wonder. When we fix our eyes somewhere other than on God, wonder leads to wander. If you’ve wandered from the faith or are looking for the door, it’s not because of Jesus. You may think Christianity requires mind-numbing, experience-denying faith, but what if that’s not true?

We wonder because our frame of reference doesn’t provide us with all of the answers. Every version of religion works for children. But then life happens. We experience challenging circumstances that sow doubt in our childhood faith. Tragedy causes us to question if God is good and loving. Sin leads to guilt and shame. We wonder if God can really love us. Is there such a thing as a frame of reference that can accomodate a grown-up faith?

We wonder because our frame of reference doesn’t provide us with all of the answers. As our frame of reference changes or expands, some mysteries are solved. Some remain mysterious. So what do you do with the big mysteries in life—the mysteries that won't resolve no matter how much we explore them? What do you do with your unanswered questions?

Dissatisfaction with what we have and what we can afford can lead to discontentment. We live in a culture that tell us newer and shinier is better. So, what do you do when you're no longer content with what you wear, drive, or live in?

We all assume that we can behave and confess our way into a barrier-free relationship with God. If we sin against someone, we can just pray for God’s forgiveness and we’ll be back in his good graces. But what if God wants more from us than vertical morality? What if he cares about our horizontal relationships?