Pop’s Pool Hall

Hello! Below are all of the Pop’s Pool Hall devotion series, all twelve days, in one spot. Hopefully you find it easy to read this way. Enjoy!

Day One: Pop’s Pool Hall

You might remember that the last devotion series ended with the resurrection of Jesus. In the forty days following, Jesus walks to Emmaus, has an awkward conversation with Thomas, cooks breakfast for his friends in Galilee, and has an even more awkward conversation with Peter. Then, on the day of Ascension, the disciples and others watch him rise into the sky and disappear.

That day of Ascension is, traditionally, the fortieth day after Easter. In 2025, that’s on May 29—and that’s when my new devotion series begins. 

Like the conversations Jesus had with Thomas and Peter, this new series will be awkward for some. A friend suggested I call it “Junkyard Unfiltered” because it’s less wise and more gritty. For this reason, I’m only sending it to people who subscribe to my blog. You’re my best Junkyard Wisdom™ friends, and you’ll put up with me! 

So what’s this new devotion series all about?

Imagine with me that you’re living in first-century Palestine and have followed Jesus around for a few years. More and more people are hearing his stories and trying to live his teachings. 

But then—suddenly—he leaves. You see it happen, and you’re left staring into the sky and wondering, Now what?

A few things are clear.

First, the story of Jesus is in your hands now. It has to be told because it transforms lives. But how? 

Second, whatever you choose to do, you’ll need to do it in community. That’s just the way things get done. And community means folks who are also Jesus followers, like Peter, Mary Magdalene, and a crusty business owner in Jerusalem.

Third, you enjoy a good beer, wine, or whiskey, and you feel slightly guilty about that since your Baptist mother was a teetotaler—but you do it anyway. 

Oh wait, that’s me! 

But still, it might be true for you as well. And if it is, you know the best place in Jerusalem to hang out with friends and shoot the breeze is Pop’s Pool Hall. If you’re going to share the story of Jesus with the world, that’s where things are gonna start.

Okay, is this a stretch? Well, yeah, duh! But what did you expect from me, a thesis on predestination? No, I like to use imagination to tell stories about the messy parts of life and faith. We sometimes make all those Bible characters into saints without recognizing that they probably enjoyed a game of cutthroat (the billiards kind) and a round of cold ones after work. 

So this upcoming devotion series is based on pretty thin evidence. Fine, zero evidence. I couldn’t even find it on Wikipedia. But having admitted this, I think an imaginative approach to understanding what might have happened is a brilliant way to better understand what actually happened and what it means. 

You may have heard that back in the day, a group of Christian writers, including C. S.  Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, would meet at a cozy pub in Oxford to discuss their writing. And by discuss, I mean read and drink and laugh and argue.

I like to imagine that the Gospel writers did something similar. In my version of the story, after Jesus returns to heaven, those four writers meet at Pop’s Pool Hall to swap stories, reminisce, and argue. These meetings at Pop’s are filled with laughter, mediocre wine, above-average beer, and countless stories about their friend, Jesus. 

Or at least that’s how I like to picture it happening. Starting on Thursday, May 29, you’ll get a daily email, and I hope it entertains you as it challenges you. 

Thanks for joining me on this journey! 

Day Two: It All Begins at Pop’s Pool Hall

The disciples and other followers of Jesus stand on the hilltop and stare into the clouds where Jesus has just disappeared. They’re befuddled, disappointed, and even a touch angry.

Jesus is gone, and this time for good. It had been hard enough to lose him when he died on the cross—but then he’d come back! After his resurrection, it seemed like everything was possible. 

Now it seems like everything is falling apart. 

Matthew, remembering what Jesus told them moments earlier, mutters, “You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” He follows that up with an insightful, “Huh.”

John, standing next to him, says, “At least there was that part about receiving power from the Holy Spirit, whoever that is.”

Before they can discuss this, two men blink into existence right in the middle of the group. The dudes are wearing the whitest, brightest suits imaginable, complete with matching sunglasses. The disciples are dumbstruck, though later James would brag that Moses and Elijah were even brighter at the transfiguration.

“Hey. Hey!” says the first dude, waving a hand in front of the nearest disciple. “We’re not gonna zap you with lightning or anything.”

“But we do have a few things to tell you,” says the second dude. “First, quit looking at the sky. Second, Jesus is coming back.”

At this news, everyone begins to talk.

“Coming back eventually,” the first dude clarifies, loudly. “And lastly, you all got some work to do, right? So … get to it!”

The two messengers disappear, and Thomas blurts out, “Did that really happen?” Peter reacts next. “I knew it! I knew it!” he exclaims. “Okay, let’s get back to Jerusalem and figure out what’s next.” 

With no other plan (besides the whole tell-the-world-about-Jesus command), everyone heads back down the hill in small groups. Jesus’s mom, Mary, walks sadly with the donkey, Sully, by her side. Mary Magdalene keeps an eye on her but gives her privacy. Andrew, Philip, and a few other disciples talk excitedly as they walk, while Bartholomew, Nathaniel, and a few others have a more measured conversation. 

John and Matthew walk together in thoughtful silence. Eventually John asks, “What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know. It’s just—how exactly are we supposed to be witnesses around the world? We’re a bunch of out-of-work, undertrained guys who just lost our leader.”

“And it wasn’t the first time he told us that,” adds John. 

“Right, but we all figured we’d be doing it with him,” says Matthew, trailing off.

They walk in silence for a bit. Then John, twenty years younger than Matthew, suddenly says, “Podcast!”

Matthew stares at him and shakes his head.

“Then how about a documentary we shoot on our phones?”

Matthew stops walking and faces him. “John, I barely know my password. And Simon the Zealot just destroyed his phone so Rome couldn’t track him.”

John looks deflated, so Matthew tries to cheer him up. “I think you’re right, though. We need to share stories about Jesus that people can connect with. I just think we need to do something more permanent. More lasting.”

“What’s more permanent than a podcast?” asks John.

“A book,” answers Matthew. “You know, with ink and parchment and all that? Wait, have you ever actually reada book?”

“Does an audiobook count, or—”

“Writing a book is the perfect idea, and it’s about time you two figured that out,” interrupts Mary Magdalene. She’s drifted closer so she can listen in on their conversation. “It’ll be the best way to pass on stories that help people understand who Jesus really is. Pops and I have been talking about this ever since Jesus was crucified and rose from the dead.”

Before John or Matthew can say anything, Mary adds, “Listen, just come by Pop’s Pool Hall tonight. We’ve got a couple of guys you should meet.”

Until tomorrow, when we meet everyone at Pop’s Pool Hall.

Day Three: Pops, Mary, and the Boys

“Look, John, don’t be a jerk about this,” Pops says. “The Roman authorities are threatening to pull my liquor license, so just show me your damn ID. You don’t even look like you’re shaving yet!”

John doesn’t want Pops to get in trouble, so he pulls out his Galilean identification. Still, he can’t resist messing with Pops. “I’ve been coming here for a few years, Pops, so if you don’t know my age … wait, you’re not getting senile, are you?”

“Watch it, kid,” Pops says, winking. “What are you drinking tonight?”

“Hmm,” John muses, “how about an elderflower and lime martini?”

“Sure,” Pops deadpans, “as long as you don’t mind no lime and no elderflower, whatever that is.”

“An old fashioned then?”

“That I can do,” Pops answers.

The pool hall is quiet, but it’s still early. The regulars, mostly working stiffs who want a game of pool and a few drinks, are starting to arrive. A couple of Roman soldiers sit alone in the corner, making the locals a little nervous. But the soldiers aren’t looking for trouble. Far away from home, they’re just hoping to be left alone.

Soon Mary Magdalene walks in and grabs the stool next to John. They bump elbows and smile.

“Usual?” Pops asks Mary.

“Please and thank you,” she answers.

While Pops makes a gin and tonic, he quips, “Want me to ask for your ID so you feel young again?” 

Mary turns to John and asks, “You think he’s ever going to figure out how stupid his jokes are?” 

“Oh, come on,” Pops says, “some of them might be dumb, but you love them anyway. Plus, where else would you find such a wise and handsome bartender?”

“Just gimme the glass, old man.” 

John shakes his head and chuckles. He knows Pops and Mary are the same age and have known each other since childhood. Their banter is a constant source of amusement to their friends. He also wonders what Pops and Mary are cooking up.

“Where’s Matthew?” Mary asks John.

“No idea. He’s usually early, so he’ll be here soon.” 

“Well, one of the guys I want you to meet just walked in, so let me introduce you,” Mary says, waving over a young man. 

“Mark, I want you to meet John. Yes, that John. And John, meet Mark. He’s a writer. A good one.”

The men shake hands and greet each other. 

About then Matthew arrives, full of apologies for being late. “Sorry, Peter asked me to help him figure out a few financial things. Our books are a bit blurry after the debacle with he who shall not be named.” 

Mark orders a local IPA, and Matthew says he’ll have one as well. Soon, more customers arrive, and the noise level increases. A group of palace guards has started an impromptu arm-wrestling competition at one of the tables, and a couple of farriers laughingly challenge the winner. 

Pops has been red-eyed angry at Judas the last several weeks, and the jukebox has reflected that. It’s finally a bit mellower tonight, with Johnny Cash belting out “God’s Gonna Cut You Down”—an improvement on Rage Against the Machine and “You Oughta Know” by Alanis. 

Mary half-shouts to the three men, “There’s one more person I invited, but he’s always late. He’s a doctor, and you know what their schedules are like.” 

They all nod, fully understanding that some professions are always a bit behind the timeline. “His name is Luke. You’ll like him. He’s a great doctor, very scientific, with a huge heart for the suffering. He definitely fits in our group.”

“And our group is … ” begins John.

“Let’s wait ‘til Luke gets here,” interrupts Mary. “In the meantime, who wants me to take their money in a game of cutthroat?”

Half an hour later, the four of them are bantering across a pool table when Luke finally arrives. Waving to him from across the room, Mary directs the other three to a spot Pops has reserved for them.

“Let’s head to a booth in the back where it’s quieter,” says Mary, “and we can talk in privacy.”

Until tomorrow, when Mary reveals her plan.

Day Four: A Great Idea

After introducing Luke to the group, Mary looks around the booth from face to face. Matthew and John are the most comfortable. It’s not the first or even the fiftieth time they’ve hung out at Pop’s Pool Hall. Plus, they’re insiders. As disciples, they’ve got street cred. Mark is taking notes or maybe just scribbling to keep his hands busy. Luke looks like he pulled a double shift at the ER, but Mary knows he’ll be fine. She’s seen the depth of his passion and endurance while caring for lepers together.

“Gentlemen, I’m going to get right to the point. You don’t all know each other, but Pops and I brought you here because together, you can do something amazing.”

She’s got their full attention. She takes a sip of her gin and tonic, then continues. “You just need a kickass woman like me to state the obvious.”

There are shrugs and nods of agreement. They sense she’s not wrong.

“So here goes,” she continues. “Matthew and John, the last thing Jesus commanded was for us to show the whole world who he is, right? That’s gonna look different for all of his followers, but I heard you two talking about a book. Which is a good idea. In fact, I had the same idea myself.”

Matthew and John fist bump as Matthew mutters, “I bet we had the idea first, but okay.”

“But what if, instead of a good idea, there was a great idea?” 

Dubious nods. Mark pipes up. “Which is?”

“Four books.”

She says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John are too stunned to react.

“There will be one for the Jews,” she says, nodding at Matthew, “and one for the Greeks. That’ll be you, Luke. John, you’ll write the exact book you need to write, and it’ll be different from the others. Finally, there will be a book by one of Jesus’s hard-core disciples … Peter.”

Mark understands before the others: that’ll be his book. He confirms with Mary, asking, “Peter doesn’t have the patience or the inclination to write a book, correct?”

“Exactly,” Mary answers, “and that’s where you’ll come in, Mark. Since you’re a collaborative writer, you’ll take what Peter says and put it to parchment. And trust me: Peter will have a lot to say.”

Pops is dropping off a round of drinks and hears this last part. “Wait,” he asks, nodding toward Mark, “he’s a ghostwriter?”

Mark looks offended and says, “No, a collaborative writer! Do I look like a ghost?”

“Can we get back to the point?” Mary demands. Then she continues her pitch, saying, “Now before you start asking questions, hear me out. Luke, you’re a research guy. You want to get the facts straight, but you also have a heart for the suffering. I mean, that’s why you’re a doctor! You might tell some of the same stories, but they’ll have a distinct human element.”

“And Matthew, don’t laugh, but you’ll do an amazing job writing a book for our fellow Jews. Sure, you were a tax collector, but you get our system, and I know you love the idea that Jesus is the King of the Jews. You might also tell some of the same stories, but you’ll be able to communicate well to the Jewish audience.” 

“John, you know Jesus better than anyone. You were like a little brother to him. You were there for all the great moments, and your love never wavered. He confided in you and told you stories few people have heard. You’re also … ”

“A space cadet?” Matthew suggests.

“A smart-ass hipster?” Pops chips in.

“Unique,” Mary clarifies, “but the whole world will need your book.”

While Pop’s Pool Hall buzzes around them, their booth is quiet. It’s a lot to absorb.

The silence is broken by Pops. “Look, guys, Mary’s got a helluva good idea. Before he left, Jesus told all of us to be his witnesses, right? So write four books with his story, and then we’ll get them out to the ends of the earth, wherever that is!”

Until tomorrow, when the booth gets into a full-blown argument.

Day Five: The First Argument

As Pops walks off to help other customers, Matthew asks Mary, “Are you crazy?”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” John adds more tactfully, “but four books by four different people about the same thing … is that really a great idea like you and Pops seem to think?”

Mark waves a cocktail napkin in the air until the two disciples shut up and pay attention. Matthew says, “You look like a dork waving that. What do you want?”

Ignoring the insult, Mark says, “Listen, Mary makes a great point. I wasn’t even there, and I know enough stories about Jesus to fill several books. Besides, if we each write a book, we can focus on what’s most important for our readers, right?”

The other three agree, or at least don’t disagree, so Mark continues.

“Plus, we can compare notes along the way. We shouldn’t just write the first ten stories about Jesus that come to mind. Nobody needs to hear about when Jesus filled out some paperwork for a Centurion, or that one morning he woke up early and solved Wordle on the first guess.”

“True,” says Matthew, “and if we do four different books, we could at least begin our books at the same place in the story before we go in different directions.”

There are nods around the table. Maybe Mary’s project isn’t as crazy as it sounds. 

“Okay, great,” Mark continues, grinning, “so we’ll all start our stories with—”

Then all four speak at the same time.

“—a long genealogy!”

“—John the Baptist!”

“—the birth of Jesus!”

“—the literal beginning of the entire cosmos!”

Since John’s comment takes the longest to say, the other three swivel to stare at him.

“Wait, wait, lemme get this straight,” sputters Matthew, “you’re going to start your book about Jesus with the beginning of the cosmos? We already have the book of Genesis!”

“True,” replies John, unperturbed. He leans back and spreads his hands wide. “But why not begin at the realbeginning?”

No one says anything, so John continues. “It all makes perfect sense if you think about it. First, the beginning of the cosmos—because that was Jesus! Then, out of nowhere, I’ll throw in a bit about John the Baptist … ”

“Thank you,” says Mark.

“And then,” continues John, “I’ll tell the birth story … ”

“Thank you,” says Luke.

“But,” continues John, “I think I’ll tell the birth story in a single, cryptic verse before talking about John the Baptist some more. It’s all coming together in my head. It makes perfect sense, man!”

His pitch is met with uncomprehending stares, so he tries another tack. “Okay, look, why are you picking on me? Everyone else’s ideas are weird, too. Except for Luke’s. Luke’s actually makes a ton of sense, now that I think about it.”

“Thank you,” repeats Luke. “What makes more sense than starting a story with the birth of the main character? You research their life, then tell their story from birth to death.” 

“In my defense,” Matthew adds, “my genealogy idea is basically just a birth announcement. I’d be starting with the birth of Jesus, too. It’s how Jewish readers will want to hear it.”

“Most boring birth announcement ever,” John mutters under his breath.

“Which leaves me as the odd author out,” Mark acknowledges. “But listen, everyone already knows Jesus was born. Duh! I want to skip to when he actually started his ministry.”

At this, the conversation devolves into petty arguments and insults, and Pops, who has overheard quite a bit in the last few minutes, uses his “bouncer voice” to grab the men’s attention.

“Guys! Guys. Listen. You don’t have to start at the same point in the story. In fact, it’ll be more fun for readers if you don’t. Jesus was … well, he was a lot of things! But if nothing else, he was complicated. I bet starting your books in different places might even help readers make sense of it all.”

Pops glances at Mary, who gives him a wink.

His double-barrel shot of common sense has shut everyone up, as usual. He’s got them on the hook, so he sits down with them and says, “But even if you don’t start in the same places, you’ll still include some of the same stories. How could you not?”

Until tomorrow, when the boys argue some more.

Day Six: Captain Obvious

Pops has just convinced the boys that it’s okay to start their stories in different places. Now the budding book writers have spread scraps of parchment on the table and are talking excitedly about what they should include. 

“Common stories, so like … John the Baptist?” asks Mark hopefully. “I mean, I’m assuming you’d all include him. Everyone’s heard about the character who wore camel hair and ate giant bugs.”

“Yeah, that baptism was the start of Jesus’s ministry—plus fulfillment of prophecy,” agrees John. “Essential story material right there.”

“Or the time he fed thousands,” Mark continues, “or kicked out the pigeon sellers from the temple … what about those?”

John nods while Matthew and Luke scribble enthusiastically. “Different beginnings and some different stories, but lots of agreement still,” muses Luke. “Reminds me of teamwork in a hospital ward.”

Pops speaks up. “And not to be Captain Obvious, but you’ll all write about Jesus’s death and resurrection. Kinda important, right?”

Mary puts a finer point on it, saying, “That’s literally the whole point of the books. If one of you knuckleheads forgets to include that, I’m giving Sully green grass and water for a week and then locking him in your house.” 

“Whoa, whoa,” protests Mark, “no need for that. We’re all pretty clear that it needs to be in each book. But a question for you, Mary. You brought Luke and me into this group, but have you thought about writing your own book?”

“Oh, I have. And I could. Perpetua, Phoebe, and I are in a writing group at Lydia’s house. But the time doesn’t feel quite right. I figure you men need to do your thing for a few hundred years … but there might be some surprises after that.”

With that, Mary stands and stretches. Pops stands as well.

“You four are smart enough to know that Mary’s even smarter,” he says, “and it sounds like you’re starting to agree on how to begin writing the four books. Which is welcome news, believe me.”

“Because?” asks Luke, looking up from his parchment.

“Because it’s closing time. You’ve out-argued and outlasted all my regulars, and I still gotta lock up and get home to feed the dogs. So vamoose, or however you say it in Latin.”

With a few more good-natured jokes, the four men collect their various writing materials, scooch out of the booth, and stand.

“Back tomorrow?” Pops asks.

“Definitely,” Mark agrees. “We’ve got a lot to figure out. Oh, and if you’re looking for a good jukebox tune to set the mood, maybe go with that U2 track ‘Until the End of the World’ … it’s haunting, in the best way.”

The four writers say goodnight, and Pops and Mary watch them leave, shaking their heads fondly. Mary puts on her shawl and grabs her purse. 

“Mary, those four are going to need a lot of help along the way. You up for this?”

“Hell no. You?” 

“Nope. Let’s hope that the helper Jesus promised shows up.”

“Amen,” Mary agrees.

As Pops finishes shutting down, he thinks about how there are enough Jesus stories to fill forty books, or maybe four hundred. At last he turns off the neon sign and locks up.

God help them, he thinks, beginning his walk home.

Until tomorrow, when Pops tells Mark about his past.

Day Seven: Pops Shares His Story 

It’s early in the evening, and Mark is the first one to arrive at Pop’s. Matthew and John spent the day meeting together and outlining. Luke was called into the ER after a multi-camel crash on the road to Jericho, but he also made a comprehensive mental list of everyone he wants to interview about Jesus’s ministry. 

Mark needs a drink—stat, as Luke would say. He’s been interviewing Peter and can barely flex his writing hand anymore. Peter was a whirlwind of stories and sermons and tangents, and it was almost impossible for Mark to keep up. At one point a hummingbird was fizzing around the room while Peter was trying to tell two different stories at the same time … or maybe Mark had hallucinated that.

Pops doesn’t know Mark as well as Matthew and John, but every bartender can spot someone who needs to wind down. Pops heads behind the bar and asks, “Usual?”

“Please and thanks,” Mark says, and Pops pours a pint of IPA.

“So how about I tell you a story,” Pops offers, “while you relax?”                                  

“Sure,” Mark agrees, “what about?”

Pops chuckles. “Well, what’s a writer like you been wondering about me?”

“How you and Mary are connected to the whole Jesus thing,” Mark answers right away.

“Ha, I knew it,” Pops says. “For starters, Mary and me go waaaay back. Our families have lived next door to each other in Jerusalem since forever. We’d play together as kids. Mary loved my mom’s ice cream, and I had a crush on her older sister. Now what’s important for this story is that my dad, God rest his soul, was a merchant who traded olive oil with distant lands. I grew up hearing every language you can imagine. Anyway, Dad once had a client who couldn’t pay his bill, so Dad acquired this very pool hall in lieu of cash. And it wasn’t that many years later that he asked me if I wanted to run it. I did … and here we are.”

Pops spreads his hands and looks around the pool hall.

Mark takes a sip of his drink, then asks, “Pops, this is a great story, but as a writer, I need to ask … do you have an actual point?”

“I was getting there, kid,” Pops continues. “So a few years ago, on a cold winter day, Mary stops by for a drink. Childhood friends catching up. We get to talking, and she tells me about a rabbi named Jesus from Nazareth, who she’s been following. And I figure, why not track him down? When I find him, I bump into a pissed-off crowd. More than half of them are holding rocks and looking ready to kill someone. They’re not mad at me, though, and I know a bunch of them from the bar, so I shoulder through the bodies until I can see Jesus. And he does not seem fazed by the whole thing. He’s actually ripping his enemies a new one about some religious dispute. But—swear to God this is true—right then he looks directly at me and says, ‘My sheep listen to my voice.’”

“He said that to you?”

Pops nods, lost in the memory. After a second, he replies, “Yeah, right to me. It was for everyone, really, but he was looking at me. That was when I knew Jesus was the real deal. Like, whatever he was selling, I’d buy it, you know? Except he wasn’t selling anything … he was giving it.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Mark says. “And I’m guessing that’s why you’re on board with Mary’s book idea.”

“Exactly. Most guys who run pool halls don’t get a chance to change the world. But a while back, everything clicked when Mary told me about her book idea. Get the books written, sure, but then get them out there. Get people reading ‘em. And it hit me: I have connections all over the world. Not just family connections from when my dad was a trader, but all the people who find their way into this bar … it’s like the United Nations around here. I figured with my connections, I could get books everywhere. I could make sure people heard about Jesus.”

“I love it,” agrees Mark. “And I’m guessing Mary’s the one who steers Jesus followers here?”

“Yep, sometimes that means sinners and Romans and even tax collectors, and sometimes it ends up being the disciples and Jesus.”

“Wait, wait,” Mark sputters, “you’re saying Jesus came here?”

“Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. I’m not saying either way. You think I want some plaque with candles and a bunch of pilgrims kneeling on the floor without buying drinks? Besides, I don’t want to make a profit on it.”

“When you put it that way,” Mark admits.

“Look, I don’t wanna make a fortune, kid. I’m too old for that,” Pops says. “What I want is to make a difference.”

Until tomorrow, when it’s Mark’s turn to share some stories with Pops.

Day Eight: Peter the Tornado

Pops has just told Mark about how he started following Jesus. The bar still isn’t too busy yet, so Pops says to Mark, “Now it’s your turn to tell a story. How are things going with Peter?”

“Well,” Mark half moans, “Peter’s a tornado. The stories just pour out of him, and most of them turn into a sermon of sorts. He spent a ton of time with Jesus. Now that Jesus is gone, though, I think Peter’s starting to realize the gigantic task ahead of him. He oozes confidence, but sometimes I pick up on some bluff in what he’s planning, you know?”

“Yeah,” Pops agrees, “all that sounds like Peter. And you’ve got enough stuff for your book?”

“I’ve got too much! Focusing this book is going to be a challenge. Peter has a million stories, but they’re short on detail. I might want to write a whole page on something, but he gives me a sentence or two, and then he’s on to the next story. I appreciate brevity, but he’s in a whole different category.”

“Woof,” sympathizes Pops. “Peter’s the golden retriever of the group, for sure. Easily distracted, super lovable, and up for anything. Can I offer some bartenderly advice?”

“I’m all ears.”

“Peter’s not gonna change, but you can embrace that. Focus on what’s unique about him. He’s bold and strong and tells the truth—just like he’s a complete jackass sometimes!”

Mark tries not to spray beer out of his nose while Pops grins and continues.

“Peter’s always been an enigma. Most of us who follow Jesus know about Peter being the first to proclaim him as divine. But fewer know how conflicted Peter was that night Jesus was arrested. You can tell both stories. Oh, and ask him about the time Jesus called him Satan—that might be an important part of your book.”

“So you’re suggesting,” Mark responds, “that I highlight the human side of Peter?”

“Sorta … ” Pops muses. “Look, you’re obviously a talented writer. You’ll probably finish your book first, and I’m guessing the others will copy some of your stuff. Well, probably not John. That guy seems like he’s in a different cosmos sometimes. Point is, you’ll need to pick the perfect stories to show what Jesus’s life meant. That’s the focus: Jesus. But since your source is Peter, you can’t help but tell his story too. Peter’s contradictions will help people see Jesus even better, if that makes sense.”

While Pops puts a load of glasses in the dishwasher, Mark sips his IPA and thinks. It does make sense. Keep Jesus at the center of the book. Keep the stories short, simple, and direct—and also let the world see the full humanity of the storyteller. Let the reader lean into the contrasts. 

Next time Pops walks past, Mark asks, “Is it wrong to be intimidated by the other guys? Luke, well, he’s just brilliant. His research is second to none. John was the disciple. And Matthew’s used to getting his way.”

“True on all three counts, but I’m all out of advice for now,” answers Pops. 

Right then Matthew walks up. He gives Pops a funny look and grabs a stool next to Mark at the bar. “Long day?” he asks Mark. 

“With Peter? For sure, but I got so many good stories. You were there for most of them. Mind if I ask you to fill in some details Peter left out?”

“Or exaggerated?” Matthew suggests. “Happy to, as long as you buy the first round.”

The next hour flies by as Mark and Matthew share notes and sip beers. Eventually John and Luke arrive, and the four of them order one of Pops’ famous pita platters with extra olives and anchovies before heading to their booth.

The four writers are so deep in conversation—and snacking—that they don’t notice Mary arrive. She sits at the far end of the bar, where she can spy on the boys and also control the jukebox. (She deems it a community service after Pops recently played Lady Gaga’s “Judas” five times in a row.)

Pops walks past, and she puts a hand on his forearm.  

“It’s working,” she whispers. 

He nods and smiles back.

Until tomorrow, when the boys get into another argument.

Day Nine: Minor Details

Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John spend the evening in their booth, swapping notes and arguing about what should or shouldn’t be in their books. A bit later, Mary stops by to say hello and check on their progress.

During a pause in the conversation, Luke asks a question. “So, Matt, you say that after your genealogy, you’re going to tell about wise men from the east who visit Jesus after his birth. In my research, though, I can’t find any evidence of them. Are you just making that up to emphasize your Jesus-is-a-King theme?”

“Am I just what?” Matthew explodes. “Just because I’m a tax collector doesn’t mean I don’t know my facts. Everyone agrees something remarkable happened in the sky that night, right? Everyone agrees that it guided people to a stable in Bethlehem, right? Everyone agrees Herod was tipped off about the birth of a new king, right? Have you even gone to Bethlehem yet?”

“Okay, okay, I withdraw my question,” says Luke, holding up his hands. “But let me ask something else. The whole country has heard about when Jesus miraculously fed people out in the countryside. It was thousands, right?”

“Four thousand,” says Matthew.

“Five thousand,” says John at the same time.

“Ha, I’ll have to dig into that data,” laughs Luke. “But actually I’m more curious about the leftovers and some of the other details. From what I’ve heard, Jesus fed a bunch of men, and then his disciples collected the leftovers in baskets, right?

John fiddles with his cocktail glass. “Well … not exactly,” he hedges.

“I mean, that’s basically right,” waffles Matthew, “apart from some minor details no one will really care about.”

“Minor as in … ?” queries Luke.

“Minor as in literal minors,” laughs Mary. “What they aren’t saying, Luke, is that Jesus fed children too, and plenty of ‘em. Plus their mothers and grandmothers. Leave it to the men to leave out those details.”

“Hold on, that would at least triple the number of people Jesus fed, if not quadruple!” Luke exclaims. “Why were we talking about the difference between four and five thousand when it was really enough people to fill up half the Colosseum in Rome?”

“Good question,” says Mary, looking significantly at Matthew and John. “And did they mention who helped the disciples organize everyone and clean up afterward? Not that I think that would make it into the books.”

Pops arrives with a final round of drinks. “You’ll have to choose how to write your versions,” Pops says, “but for me the craziest part wasn’t the numbers, but the ridiculous generosity. I remember running into Andrew, who told me Jesus had miraculously fed, and I’m quoting, ‘a gazillion’ people. I know not to trust fishermen for the real size of things, but everyone was blown away by the lavishness.”            

“Peter told me the same thing,” agrees Mark. “Rich, poor, young, old—Jesus just joyfully multiplied a single meal into a feast for everyone.”

Mary stands to leave. “You boys might disagree on exactly what’s important in that story,” she says, “but it belongs in all of your books. It was like a giant announcement to the world about who Jesus was. Everyone there will tell the story for the rest of their lives.”

“Speaking of,” chimes in Pops, “have I ever told you about the guy who showed up here in Jerusalem and tried to sell me a few baskets of so-called Jesus bread? Said if I bought them, I could double the price of my turkey sandwiches!”

“Sadly, I bet some sucker did buy that guy’s supposed miracle bread,” says John.

“You’re exactly right,” Pops agrees. “And I happen to know who: it was one of those shady pigeon traders in the temple. I bet he was planning to charge poor worshippers an arm and a leg for it. Joke was on him, though … I heard his pigeons ate it before he could resell it!”

As everyone laughs, Pops and Mary leave the boys to continue their work.

Until tomorrow, when the boys realize something important.

Day Ten: Getting the Word Out

As the days fly past, the boys continue to work at Pop’s Pool Hall.

But today the focus shifts. The four of them meet as always, but the mood in the booth is different. John notices it first. He pushes his pile of parchment away from him, leans back, and laces his fingers behind his head.

“You know,” he reflects, “we might have finished what we set out to do.” The other three look up at him. “I mean, obviously we haven’t finished the books yet, but I think we’ve all got our outlines. I’m noticing we’re spending more time writing and less time swapping stories. At some point, meeting together is less helpful than just staying home and working.”

The others look thoughtful. 

Matthew swirls his glass and takes a swig. “But I’m not sure I want this to end.” 

Grunts of agreement go around the booth.

This crazy project of Mary’s has connected us somehow,” Matthew continues. “It almost feels like we’re, I dunno…” He pauses to belch, then continues, “like we’re a church or something.” 

“Hear, hear,” interjects Mark, “a church with booze and nachos.”

“Anyway,” Matthew finishes, “I really appreciate your friendship, all of you.” 

He looks across the room and sees Pops behind the bar. He shouts, “Even you, Pops!” 

Pops looks up, surprised. He can’t hear what the boys are saying, but he sees them clinking glasses with Matthew. John puts a hand on Mark’s shoulder. Luke is shaking his head like he can’t quite believe something. 

Pops waves his hands to get their attention, and when he does, he holds up an empty glass and makes a questioning face. When he gets four thumbs up from the booth, he starts pouring another round of their regular orders: Matthew’s “what’s the special today,” Mark’s IPA, Luke’s cabernet sauvignon, and John’s old fashioned.

Arriving with the drinks a few minutes later, Pops does a double-take. “Have you guys been crying?”

“No!” all four snap at once.

“Even Jesus wept,” Pops responds wisely, passing out the fresh drinks and taking a seat at the booth. “So, from the looks of things, I’m guessing you decided something big. What’s up?”

“We were saying goodbye to each other,” Luke says.

“Because we realized we’re ready to go finish our books,” Mark finishes.

Pops looks around the booth and gets four determined stares in return. “Hell yeah,” he grins, “that’s the best news I’ve heard since Matthew agreed to pay his tab.”

The boys reward his bad joke with groans.

“But listen, Mary tells me there are three stages to any book. Planning, writing, and publishing. I can see you’re committed to the writing, and I know you’ll keep each other accountable. But once you ink your final page, how will you get your books to readers?”

There’s a long silence until finally John offers an eloquent, “Uh, yeah … good question.”

Pops has been figuring things would shake out like this. “Creatives!” he coughs into his hand, pretending to clear his throat. “Okay, here’s the deal. You worry about finishing your books. And believe me, I will sic Mary on you if I need to. But after you finish your books, I’ve got a plan.”

“Any plan is better than my plan,” admits John. “Whaddaya got for us?”

“Well, Mark has heard this already, but my old man ran an olive oil trading business I used to work at. Which means I’ve still got a ton of contacts around the world. We’re talking Thracia, Galatia … hell, all the way to Hispania and back. The point is, once I get a copy of your book, I’ll get ten copies made and send them out with my contacts … and I bet people will copy those copies. The Roman trade routes will spread the story of Jesus far and wide.”

The rest of the guys look at Mark, who says, “I love the idea. It’s a way better plan than any of my publishers has ever had.”

“Well,” offers Matthew, “I was kinda hoping for a multi-book deal, but yeah, that’s a really good idea.”

John and Luke scribble the phrase ‘multiple books’ in their notes. 

“It’s settled then,” agrees Pops. “Oh, and don’t you dare leave tonight without saying goodbye to Mary. Mostly because she’ll kill me.”

“Where is Mary, anyway?” asks Luke.

Pops gestures with a thumb. “Out back at the monthly axe throwing competition. No doubt she’s made a few enemies and a few hundred bucks.”

Until tomorrow, when Pops and Mary say goodbye.

Day Eleven: Go Change the World

There are things we do for the last time without realizing it. The last time we pick up our kid for a hug. The last time we play in the yard with a childhood friend. The last phone call with someone before we, well, just drift apart. The list is as long as life.

That’s true for Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Mary, and Pops on that final night at Pop’s Pool Hall. None of them know it will be their last evening together, but it is. A couple of them will see each other on and off in the coming months and years, but soon, time and circumstance scatter them.

Mark goes out back to get Mary so everyone can say their goodbyes. By the time the six of them are done, they’re the last ones in the building.

All of this was Mary’s vision, so nobody objects when she asks to say something. “Look,” she begins, “the last few months have been wild. Jesus arriving in Jerusalem. His arrest, crucifixion, and death. Then his resurrection, for crying out loud! And the next forty days with him were an incredible gift.” They all smile at this.

“And this time with all of you,” she continues, “has created even more memories. We’ve had good times and hard times. We’re all still in shock about what Judas did, especially you, Pops. Your music choices have been … wow. You need some therapy. Maybe put on Adele’s version of Dylan every now and then, okay? Mellow out a bit.” Everyone laughs, including Pops, who knows there’s some truth in it.

“But here’s the thing. Jesus didn’t die for us to be angry. He didn’t want us living in fear. Can you remember what he said at that last Passover dinner, John? You were there too, Matthew. He said we’re supposed to be known for our love.”

Mary pauses for effect, but also wipes her cheek with her thumb. “We can’t forget that, boys. Life is complicated, but this isn’t. We’ve got one simple, stupidly hard thing to do: love one another. And with that I want to say I love each of you.”

There’s another pause, and Mary isn’t the only one sniffling. “Alright,” she says, taking a deep breath, “now go finish your books and change this … ” 

Then Mary pauses, reconsidering her wording. “Just change this world that needs a whole lot of changing, okay?” 

All the guys grin a bit, knowing how Mary almost described the world. 

Then, shocking everyone, Matthew uses that moment to grab Pops in a bear hug. Soon everyone is hugging, smiling, laughing, and crying. 

And then it’s time to leave. 

Matthew has a driver waiting for him, Mark begins the walk to his hostel, and Luke takes a taxi home for a deep sleep before his next shift. 

John stands in the doorway of Pop’s Pool Hall, waiting for his UberXL. He turns back and sees Pops and Mary at the bar. 

“You know,” he says to them, stepping back inside, “Jesus did so many things. We could never fit them into a thousand books, much less four. But thanks for encouraging us to do this much, at least. I don’t know if anyone else will ever hear about these evenings, but I’ll remember them for the rest of my life.”

Before Pops or Mary can respond, the UberXL driver arrives on the two-humped camel, which lets out a hideous bellow. John smiles, turns, and leaves.

Now it’s just Pops and Mary. He starts to make her a gin and tonic but stops. “Actually,” he says, “let’s drink together … and let’s have the good stuff.” Then he pulls out his favorite wine from somewhere beneath the bar, uncorks it, and pours two glasses.

“To a job well done,” he says.

“May those boys be filled with the Spirit,” Mary agrees.

They clink glasses, and each takes a sip. Mary’s eyes widen. “Where the hell have you been keeping this?” she sputters. “Shame on you, Pops, hiding this from me!”

Pops laughs, then switches to the real topic. “So, do you think they have it in them?”

“To finish the books?” Mary responds. “Yeah, I do. Probably not how anyone thinks it will happen, but they’ll get it done. They clicked together, you know?”

Mary smiles, then takes another sip of her wine. “What’s your prediction?” she asks.

“Since you asked,” Pops grins, setting down his wine and checking off the list on his fingers, “Mark will finish first. Your guy is good. It’ll be a concise, thoughtful, honest account. It’ll even be a bit vulnerable for Peter. Then Matthew will pick up on that and use it to finish something longer for a different audience. Luke will take his time, finishing only when he’s done all the research—and the stories he chooses will be about the hurting, the poor, and the disenfranchised. And John … ”

Pops picks up his glass and takes another sip of wine. 

“Honestly, I’m not sure what John is going to write. That kid just sees things differently, you know? But when he finishes, his book is going to stand out for its nuance and subtlety.”

“Kind of like this wine,” Mary says, lifting her glass. “And I hope you’re right. Actually, somehow, I know you’re right. Just make sure you tell me when the first book arrives.”

Until tomorrow, when we find out what happens to all our characters.

Day Twelve: A Note from John

It felt like a long journey from the Ascension of Jesus to the four boys agreeing, in a booth at Pop’s Pool Hall, to write four different books.

But the journey of those books from Pop’s Pool Hall to the ends of the earth was even longer.

In the years following that final evening, Matthew, Mark, and Luke each finished their books. Pops was right: Mark’s was the first to be completed. Luke’s project was so well-researched that it became two long books. Matthew really did begin his with a lengthy genealogy. 

And John? Pops saw him one last time when he stopped by with Sully. “Um, I hate to ask Pops, but could you take him? Jesus asked me to take care of his mother, Mary, and she wants to retire in Galilee where she grew up. But Sully, poor old boy, can’t really make the journey. I’m hoping you’ll take him?”

Pops instantly agreed, even though he had no need for a donkey. It was the least he could do. “Just get your book done, okay?” he shouted as John walked away. John turned and smiled.

Mary Magdalene still dropped by the pool hall. She and Pops would share a drink, reminisce about the old days, and argue about who was aging more gracefully. (She was also encouraging the local church leaders to be a little lenient with a new convert named Paul, but that’s for another story.)

Pops continued to run his pool hall for a few more years. The building was later destroyed by the Romans during the sack of Jerusalem, but by then Pops had retired to a seaside cottage on the Mediterranean with his wife, Anna, and two dogs. 

That’s where he sits right now, in fact: on the patio, overlooking the beautiful sea, with his wife.

Pops and Anna have just returned from spending the day in the village down the road, where their grandkids live. The sun is setting, and they’re enjoying the feeling of putting their feet up and the taste of a local wine. (Incredibly local—since Pops grows his own grapes on a nearby hillside.) 

True to his word, Pops has sent out copies of the books by Matthew, Mark, and Luke. And those copies have become copies that have become copies. Luke wrote recently, sending a math equation proving that the stories about Jesus were the most popular in the world. Pops doesn’t know about that, but he’s heard from friends in Ethiopia and India who are reading the books, so that’s a good sign.

“Are you going to open today’s mail?” Anna asks.

“I’ll get around to it,” Pops grumbles, “but it’s probably just bills.”

Except when he checks the mail more carefully, he finds two parchments from John. The first is a manuscript of his book about Jesus, and the second is a note asking how Pops is doing.

“He finally did it,” Pops says, looking over at Anna. “And listen to this: ‘In the beginning was the Word, and Word was with God, and the Word was God.’ Holy smokes, he did it. He really is beginning with the literal beginning of the universe. God bless him.”

“Hand it here,” Anna says. “I get first dibs.”

Pops hands his wife the manuscript and then reads John’s note.

Pops,

Greetings from Ephesus. Did you give up on me? Well, you always said I was a lazy hipster, so maybe you were right. But it’s done, and I hope it’s good. You might turn to the part just after Judas leaves the upper room. Mary Magdalene was right, and I didn’t forget it.

Pops puts the note down and asks Anna to read that section. 

She finds the passage. “Oh my gosh,” she exclaims. “Listen to this: ‘A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.’”

Anna turns to look at Pops, who wipes a few tears away. “He remembered. That little brat remembered,” he chuckles softly. 

Pops reads the rest of the note.

Thank you for everything, Pops. Your hospitality, your encouragement, your kindness … nobody will remember, but everyone will be blessed by it. Remember how you once described Jesus feeding all those people as ridiculous generosity? Well, that’s you, Pops. You are ridiculously generous. 

Give my love to Anna.

Forever loving,

John

Pops wipes a tear from his eye, then gets out a pen so he can answer John’s note. He takes a sip of wine, looks across the wide sea, and begins to write.

John,

Just received your book, old friend. Can’t wait to read it. Anna is already taking notes. We both cried with joy when we read the part about love. Well done, my friend. You always had a way with words. Thank you for suggesting I’m generous. I’m just a retired hustler, you know? Miss seeing you at the pool hall. Say hello to any of our friends you run across, and I’ll do the same for you.

Until tomorrow,

Pops

Thanks from Pops

Greetings from Pop’s Pool Hall! 

I’m standing behind a bar with a nice glass of cabernet sauvignon in front of me, pondering how hard it would have been for those early followers of Jesus, and thankful I didn’t have to do a book tour in first-century Palestine. (I hear the podcasters in Rome were brutal.) 

I couldn’t resist writing one last time with three quick things to share.

First, yes, there really was a Pop’s Pool Hall! Well, sorta. Pops was my grandfather. He owned a pool hall, and he was very, very good at the game. Like, criminally good. I’ve inherited the honorary title of Pops for my granddaughter, but sadly, not my grandfather’s skill with the pool cue.

Second, the circular “thank you” paragraph. Many of you have written to say thank you for the devotions, so thank you for saying thank you! And if you’d like to say thank you in a more tangible way, please consider a gift to the nonprofit I started some years ago. You can read more at www.pathlight.org/junkyard. Anything you give goes directly to help deserving students in Belize, and not a penny goes to me.

Third, by this time next year, I will have published a new book of devotions for the Easter season. We hope to have it available later this year, but the timing of these things is always murky. Stay tuned! 

In the meantime, if you can’t get enough of the Junkyard Wisdom™ world, you can check out:

• my practical, funny book on leadership, Salvaged

• my seasonal devotional book, Junkyard Wisdom Advent 

Thanks again for following along. I’m glad you’re on this journey with me … and I hope to see you for our emailed Advent devotions later this year!

Until tomorrow, whenever that might be,

Pops. Um, I mean Roy

Legal stuff: This devotion series is copyrighted by Junkyard Wisdom™ and cannot be reproduced or reused without consent. And if you really really really wanna do that, you can email me to talk about it.