Every Thought Captive, a weekly devotional from Park Cities Presbyterian Church (PCA)

Happy Christmas (War is Over)

Jessica Fikkert — Fri, 29 May 2026 :00 -0500

I don’t normally consider John Lennon to be a sound theological source. But as I read and reflected on this week’s text, the lyrics of “Happy Xmas” started playing in my head. And while I don’t think Lennon had in mind Ephesians 2 when he wrote this anti-war anthem, his words echo a deeper spiritual truth:

And so this is Christmas (War is over)
For weak and for strong (If you want it)
The rich and the poor ones (War is over)
The road is so long (Now)
And so happy Christmas (War is over)
For black and for white (If you want it)
For yellow and red ones (War is over)
Let's stop all the fight (Now)

It’s hard to miss the hostility permeating our current cultural moment. Divisions along political, socio-economic, ethnic, cultural, and theological/religious lines feel especially heightened. And the Church has not remained unscathed, as these divisions creep into the pews, causing us to distance ourselves (perhaps subconsciously) from those who do not look or think like us.

This isn’t a new story. Indeed, the more and more I study Scripture, the more I am struck by just how much time was spent trying to work out disagreements and divisions between Jews and Gentiles. In a way, it’s oddly comforting to know that the early Church also had problems with infighting.

But Paul in Ephesians 2 points us to something that is more true than the perpetual divisions that have plagued humanity since the garden. Paul tells us that, because of Jesus, war is over. This is Christmas. Jesus, in His birth, life, death, and resurrection, has ended the hostility between us and God and the hostility between Jew and Gentile. Where there were once Jew and Gentile, Christ has made a new humanity, a new people united to Christ and to one another.

What does this mean, practically? It means that you and I have more in common with a poor Maasai woman who knows Jesus than with our next-door neighbor who does not. It means that we are called to move towards brothers and sisters in Christ who don’t look like us or think like us…brothers and sisters who we may not even like very much. Perhaps even people who our culture tells us we should not love and should not associate with.

This is why I love the Church. The Church is not always easy—she is full of broken, messy sinners. Hurting people who hurt others. And yet. The Church puts the reconciling power of the gospel on full display. The Church defies the wisdom of the world, as people who were once strangers and enemies become family.

Sometimes, I want to give up on this family. It’s hard to embrace people who are different than me. But if Christ has torn down the dividing wall of hostility, if He has ended the war between God and man, if He has made peace with me, who am I to put the wall up again? Brothers and sisters, my prayer is that we all lay our weapons down and open our hands towards one another. Let’s stop all the fight.

Remember When...

Tim Jeffress — Fri, 22 May 2026 :00 -0500

Years ago, I saw a large sign in a souvenir shop that read, “It’s Hard To Be NOSTALGIC When You CAN’T REMEMBER Anything.” I thought it was so funny (and relatable) that I hung it in my study. If another sign had read, “Tim, Remember Fighting the Boer Wars!” I might have chuckled, but would have moved on, since I cannot quite recall fighting in two British wars in South Africa that began in the 1880s. Ephesians 2:11-13 could mistakenly be taken in a similar way.

In Verse 11, Paul identifies the Ephesians—the “Gentiles in the flesh”—not by what they are, but what they are not. Circumcised. Yet this physical sign, borne by the Jews, was “made with hands,” intimating that if a Jew were only marked by a bare sign, unaccompanied by a non-physical (spiritual) reality¹, i.e., circumcision of the heart (Romans 2:29), the meaning and benefit were in vain. Which is to say, circumcision no more made male Jews true believers than water baptism makes professing Christians true believers. Fair enough.

But then it gets strange. Paul says, "Remember." How could the Ephesians, most of whom were thought to be Gentiles², remember being separated from a Jewish Christ they had never known? How could they consider themselves alienated or estranged from a “commonwealth” of which they had never been a part? Of course, they were “strangers to the covenants of promise.” Perhaps telling the Ephesians to remember that they once had “no hope and without God in the world” resonated more.

Acts 19:24ff recounts the story of the fertility goddess Artemis—whose image supposedly fell from the sky—and how the Ephesians built the magnificent Artemision, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, to enshrine her. (The gods forbid she be born in a manger.) But I don’t think she ever had much to say. I don’t think modern gods have much to say, either.³

John Walton observed, “Faithfulness, order, and justice were not qualities that were normally associated with ANE [Ancient Near Eastern] gods (though they desired that sort of behavior from their worshipers). Yahweh has effectively told the Israelites that He is a different kind of God than their culture would lead them to expect of a deity.”⁴ Yes. Yahweh could tell a much better story. He could speak to the God-shaped vacuum of the heart and the sin-shaped restlessness of the soul.

I assume the answer to the question, “How can they remember?”, is that five or so years before writing this prison epistle, Paul spent an extended time in Ephesus (roughly AD 54–57). He had already condemned Artemis (Acts 21:19ff). He had taught them the marvels of Christianity. Particularly in this passage, these Ephesian Gentile Christians had been brought near to God—not by taking on an outward mark of the flesh (which involved the shedding of blood as a sign to the Israelites that all life belongs to God⁵), but by the blood of the Jewish Christ.⁶ As the old hymn goes: "What can wash away my sins? Nothing but the blood of Jesus."

Joel Beeke summarizes, “Because Abraham had faith in the God of the covenant, he received the sign of circumcision, which typified Christ’s work of shedding His blood for the remission of sins. As Romans 4:11 makes clear, circumcision was a seal of the righteousness Abraham had by faith while yet uncircumcised, and anticipated baptism as the circumcision of Christ (Colossians 2:11). The promises of God and Abraham’s response of faith and obedience, sealed with the sacramental sign of circumcision, all reflect the unfolding of God’s redemptive purposes in the covenant of grace.”⁷

I notice at least this:

1. If man can only be reconciled to God through the blood of Christ—if only the surrender of His lifeblood can atone for our sin—then lessening that standard must mean there is more than one way to the Father, meaning Christ tragically misunderstood the Father and died in vain. Conversely, adding to the cross of Christ means He did not accomplish, nor could the Spirit effectually apply, the full work of redemption. Without the exclusivity of Christ, the Trinity is rendered dysfunctional; if the Son could not understand the Father, what hope do we have of standing before such a God? Truly, Christians have nothing of eternal value to offer ourselves or the world except Christ crucified (Galatians 6:14).

2. By His blood, Christ not only atoned for our sin and ransomed us from the dominion of death, the world, the flesh, and the devil, but He also made possible continual nearness to the Father and seated us with Him in the heavenly places.⁸ Unlike animal blood, His blood reaches the conscience, continually purifies us, and gives us boldness to enter the presence of God as children, forgiven and justified (Hebrews 9:13-14).⁹

3. Paul’s teaching was substantive and enduring because God is substantive and enduring. Five times in Ephesians, and more than 50 times in his writings, Paul speaks of the glory (δόξα, we might think “weight”) of God, who has bestowed on us “every spiritual blessing” (Ephesians 1:3). Pastors, elders, deacons, mothers, fathers, and teachers of all ages should follow this proclamation of weighty revelation with correspondingly weighty teaching, which will not happen without great intentionality.

4. This passage, along with countless others, cannot be rightly understood or deeply felt by a casual reading. Paul did not invent predestination, compose the covenants, or concoct union with Christ; rather, he spent years teaching the Ephesians the depths of these things. Without careful, enduring, Spirit-wrought study, contemplation, and meditation, we will likely skip, under-interpret, or misinterpret such passages. With such attention, a mature, obedient, soul-satisfying, God-glorifying faith will carry us through the vicissitudes of this earthly sojourn, as we live with and for Christ.¹⁰ And, at the center of it all, is His life-saving, life-giving blood.

Worth remembering, don’t you think?

END NOTES:

1. See Rom 2:28; 2 Cor 10:3; Gal 2:20; Col 2:11, 13; and Phil 1:22, 24

2. Wilson, R. McL. 2005. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Colossians and Philemon. Edited by G. I. Davies and G. N. Stanton. International Critical Commentary. London; New York: T&T Clark International, p. 8.

3. Isaiah 41:21–24 "Set forth your case, says the LORD; bring your proofs, says the King of Jacob. Let them bring them, and tell us what is to happen. Tell us the former things, what they are, that we may consider them, that we may know their outcome; or declare to us the things to come. Tell us what is to come hereafter, that we may know that you are gods; do good, or do harm, that we may be dismayed and terrified. Behold, you are nothing, and your work is less than nothing; an abomination is he who chooses you."

4. Walton, John H., and J. Harvey Walton. 2019. The Lost World of the Torah: Law as Covenant and Wisdom in Ancient Context. Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic: An Imprint of InterVarsity Press.

5. Here (Gen. 17:9-14) the physical embodiment of male sexuality is cut, and its blood is shed, as a symbol of belonging to the covenant people of God. Sherlock, Charles. 1996. The Doctrine of Humanity. Edited by Gerald Bray. Contours of Christian Theology. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.

6. Leviticus tells us plainly, “The life of the flesh is in the blood” (Lev. 17:11). … God is the creator and governor of all life, and no life can be taken apart from the conditions of His law-word, …. In other words, life is not ours to take: it belongs to God, our own life included. Rushdoony, Rousas John. 2005. Commentaries on the Pentateuch: Leviticus. Vallecito, CA: Ross House Books.

7. Beeke, J.R. and Jones, M. (2012) A Puritan Theology: Doctrine for Life. Grand Rapids, MI: Reformation Heritage Books, p. 267.

8. Since Christ has been raised from the dead and has ascended into heaven, the church, too, is seated with him in heavenly places (Eph. 2:6). The church is the temple of God, his holy home by the indwelling Holy Spirit, and through Christ all its living members have access to the Father in one Spirit (vv. 18–22). As the church engages in worship as God’s temple, it does so in union with the cornerstone of that temple, the exalted and heavenly Lord Jesus. Beeke, Joel R., and Paul M. Smalley. 2024. Reformed Systematic Theology: Church and Last Things. Vol. 4. Reformed Systematic Theology. Wheaton, IL: Crossway, p. 427.

9. So I repeat that it is utterly useless to appeal to men and women to put this world right. It is the one thing they cannot do. They would if they could. They are trying; they have been trying. That is the whole story of civilization. But they cannot do it. The powers that are within them are greater than they are—evil forces, drives, passions, lusts, and devils—and the devil over it all. They are under the dominion of sin and of Satan and cannot liberate themselves. They have tried in vain throughout the running centuries, and to ask them to do so today is to display unutterable ignorance of history and the truth of human nature. To expect them to do so is still greater folly. Lloyd-Jones, Martyn. 2007. Compelling Christianity. Vol. 6. Studies in the Book of Acts. Wheaton, IL: Crossway Books, p. 72-73.

10. John 17:20–23 "I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in Me through their word, that they may all be one, just as You, Father, are in Me, and I in You, that they also may be in Us, so that the world may believe that You have sent Me. The glory that You have given Me I have given to them, that they may be one even as We are one, I in them and You in Me, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that You sent Me and loved them even as You loved Me."

God’s Workmanship

Leslie Newman — Fri, 15 May 2026 :00 -0500

One summer in college, I had the privilege of working at a Young Life camp in Colorado. I applied and was accepted onto summer staff without knowing what my work was going to be. I knew I was going to live at the camp for the summer, be part of the staff that loved on the high school campers, but that was about it. When I arrived at camp, I was assigned to the ice cream shop. It was messy, exhausting, and often out of my “comfort zone”. But nothing could have been more fun or more to my liking than serving soft serve cones and making “mix-in” milkshakes all day for those kids. Thinking of this reminded me of the privilege we are given by God to work for His purposes. We have no idea what it will be like before we are His. Amazingly, God not only saves us, but His plan includes us reflecting Him to the world in all we do and say.

Ephesians 2:10a says, “For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus…” The previous verse (Ephesians 2:9) has just said our faith and God’s grace are gifts from God. We don’t deserve His lavish grace and rich mercy, and we cannot earn them. We can’t even have faith apart from God’s generous giving it to us. So, we have nothing to brag or boast about, as far as ourselves are concerned. We are His doing and His workmanship. We are God’s poema. This is a Greek word Paul uses to describe what God has made, His masterpiece, His work of art in creating not just the beautiful world and everything in it (Romans 1:20), but the new creation – all believers in Jesus. All those who are made alive, raised, and seated with Christ in the heavenly places are God’s new creations. We are His beautiful work of regeneration, justification, salvation, adoption, and conforming us into the likeness of His Son, who made this all possible by His sacrificial life, death, and resurrection. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come (2 Corinthians 5:17).

What is the new creation? We have been transferred from the kingdom of darkness and brought into the Kingdom of His beloved Son (Colossians 1:13). We are no longer children of wrath, but children of God. We are given new hearts, indwelt by His Spirit. We are no longer slaves to sin, and we are free from the condemnation sin brings. We are given a new way of living, being transformed into the likeness of Jesus for His purposes. And that’s only a short list of all the benefits and blessings we have been given in Christ.

The rest of Ephesians 2:10 says, “We are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them.” Our transformation, our sanctification, is also a gift of grace from God. This work in us is ongoing until we meet Jesus. No work we do will ever earn our salvation or acceptance from God. Yet God has a plan for us to actively work in His Kingdom. But what are these works? What does it mean for us to walk in them? Paul says in Ephesians 5 for us to be wise and careful how we walk, in other words, how we live. We walk as children of light (Ephesians 5:8). In Galatians, Paul tells us to “walk in the Spirit” (Galatians 5:16, 25). As we walk in or live in the Spirit, we are abiding in Him, and He will produce His fruit in us. This is our response to being created new in Christ Jesus. This is the evidence and the calling of being new creations in Christ. Later in Ephesians, Paul describes some of this fruit – loving and forgiving one another as Christ loves and forgives us, speaking the truth in love, doing works of service, putting off the old self, giving thanks, submitting to one another, and praying at all times. These are just some of the works prepared for us to walk in. How will this look in your daily life?

But God’s Great Love

Eric Horan — Fri, 08 May 2026 :00 -0500

In the lengthy and doxologically rich passage which begins in Ephesians 1:3, Paul summarizes the ends for which God in Christ has brought about our salvation. On three occasions he declares, “To the praise of His glory (glorious grace),” as the purpose behind election, adoption, redemption, and the guarantee of our inheritance.

As we move into Chapter 2, Paul seems to answer the question, “Why in the first place?” Following the greatest of transitional phrases found in Scripture, “But God,” Paul describes the Father’s prevenient posture toward His people. Why has He pursued and saved those who were dead in their trespasses and sin? According to Paul, it is “Because of the great love with which He has loved us.”

God certainly prioritizes the praise and glory of His name. Scripture is clear about this. For as John Piper has quipped, God knows that our worship and praise of Him is the best thing for us.¹

But, in this section of Ephesians 2, Paul is now emphasizing the Father’s love for His people and His desire to showcase “The immeasurable riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.” And just how does He do this?

In verses 4-7, Paul mentions three realities for the Christian that we likely find difficult to comprehend. For God has,

“Made us alive together with Christ”,

and

“Raised us up with Him (Christ)”,

and

“Seated us with Him (Christ) in the heavenly places.”

Notice that these declarations are in the past tense. Paul is not simply saying that we have much to look forward to on the Day of Resurrection. The blessings highlighted here are present truths that come by way of our being united to Christ even now.

If we look back a few verses into Ephesians 1:20, we will find here Paul’s description of the Father’s work in the Son in which He, “raised Him from the dead and seated Him at His right hand in the heavenly places.” It seems as if Paul in Ephesians 2:4-7 is declaring to the reader that everything which is true of the risen and ascended Christ is now true of us.

If this is so, then we are indeed those who have been made alive spiritually in a new way. Our affections are now drawn toward godliness and lives of worship. If we have been raised up with Him, then we know that death and sin no longer have dominion over us. And, if we are now seated with Him, our assurance of eternal life and having been grafted into Christ is settled. It is certain.

If you have ever given a gift that included multiple items, you may have witnessed the recipient open the package, uncover a portion of what has been given, and offer a kind gesture of appreciation for the gift. Yet, the package has not been fully emptied. Other accompanying gifts remain a little deeper and undiscovered inside.

Likewise, all that God has offered us in the gospel and in our union with Jesus can sometimes remain a bit “undiscovered” without us giving full consideration to the vast blessings promised to the believer. Perhaps we have thought of salvation primarily as the avoidance of hell — or the relief that eternal life still awaits us.

In today’s passage, Paul assures us of so much more. For what has been promised is true for us today and into eternity. Let us meditate on these truths, recognizing that what we experience as a foretaste now will one day be gloriously consummated to our great delight and to the praise of His glory…all because of the great love with which He has loved us.

END NOTES:

John Piper, Desiring God: Meditations of a Christian Hedonist (1986)

Zombies

Amy Tassos — Fri, 01 May 2026 :00 -0500

I was recently invited by a non-believing friend to an open forum where people can bring their questions about God and Christianity. While it was determined there were no atheists in the room, there were several agnostics, and at least one pantheist, a South Asian girl I was delighted to get to know.

The girl from Bangladesh, whom we will call “M”, is a current PhD student in the area. As I inquired about how she came to America, we discovered we had both lived in France and thus bonded immediately over our commonality. A self-proclaimed feminist, M’s hangup with Christianity is that it is a religion “created and perpetuated by men and thus cannot be trusted”. As it felt like too great a thought leap, I decided not to speak to the work of the Holy Spirit in authoring the Scriptures but to address her concern about women by directing her to Jesus, who is arguably the greatest feminist of all time. (I was thankful to borrow from Rebecca McLaughlin, who borrowed from Richard Baucham on women in the life of Jesus.¹) As M had already read the Gospel of Mark, I urged her to return to it, specifically looking for the women in the life of Christ. I plan to bring her some books next week.

Seated near us were two men, one sat quietly while the other was earnestly conversing, almost with himself, stating his questions and following them up with the standard apologetic arguments. He was wrestling with the concept of God. As I listened in on the dialogue, I gathered he had heard it all before. Everything he said begged to know if the open secret of Christianity was really true.²How could so many people believe if it was a farce? Such a myth could not possibly have endured this long and with such fervency, he reasoned. Yet, assurance of the truth eluded him.

The friend who brought me to the forum is one whom I’ve been praying for years would come to saving faith in Christ. She states, as if they are mutually exclusive of one another, “I believe in God, but I believe in science”. She may be tired of me bringing her books about God and science, the most recent, a new title from John Lennox for youth.³ If she is weary of me, she thankfully has not yet ended our friendship over it. I recently told her, graciously and lovingly, but matter-of-factly, “If God does not give you eyes to see Him, you cannot see Him. Ask Him to let you see” (Isaiah 6:10; John 12:40).

These three examples bring us back to the unusual title of this essay, Zombies. The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines zombies as “the walking dead, animated corpses, unthinking masses, often acting as a mob driven by instinct”. This is the very sense Paul has given us in Ephesians 2:1-3. Later in Ephesians, Paul returns to his depiction of an unbeliever, describing them as operating “in the futility of their minds” and explaining, “they are darkened in their understanding, alienated from the life of God because of the ignorance that is in them due to their hardness of heart” (Ephesians 4:17-18). Lest we get cocky over our ability to see God, something we had nothing to do with, Paul reminds us that we all once lived as the walking dead, you and me too!

Our first father, Adam, was a corpse, “formed out of the dust of the ground” until God breathed life into him and he “became a living creature” (Genesis 2:7).

God repeats this marvel when he asks Ezekiel to prophecy over a valley of dry bones, telling them to hear the word of the Lord, “Behold, I will cause breath to enter you and you shall live…” (Ezekiel 37:5).

Much later, Jesus will reanimate the corpse of Lazarus by the breath of His words (John 11:43).

Even Jesus became a corpse for a few days, but God, the giver of life, who breathed life into the first Adam, also breathed life into the second Adam, resurrected Him, and set Him as ruler above all people and things. So too, we who have been given eyes to see and faith to believe “have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with Him in glory” (Colossians 3:3-4). Be stunned by this, and immensely grateful. Now, go and tell some “zombies” what you once were and what you now have seen and know to be true. By God’s grace, they too might become alive in Christ (Ephesians 2:5).

_____________________________

End Notes:
1. Rebecca McLaughlin, Jesus Through the Eyes of Women (Austin: The Gospel Coalition, 2022) and Richard Bauckham, Gospel Women (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002).
2. Lesslie Newbigin, The Open Secret (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995).
3. John Lennox and Katy Morgan, Science and God: Do You Have to Choose? (India: The Good Book, 2026).

Over All Things

Chris Hatley — Fri, 24 Apr 2026 :00 -0500

We tend to think far too small. Yes, our human capacity for imagination and invention is immense, but our perspective is still limited to what we can experience with our fallen human faculties. Our every interaction with creation is done so with broken bodies and distracted minds. And while there is much about the world that we constantly uncover, our understanding of reality is limited by time and space and sin.

In Genesis 1, God tasks His image bearers with subduing the earth and gives them dominion over His creation. However, this “creation mandate,” and our ability to carry it out, is tempered by our finitude. Man and woman were made to be heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ (Romans 8:17). This co-regency, this participation in God’s Kingdom as co-creators, as little kings and queens, is God’s ultimate intent for us. But tragically, ever since Genesis 3, we’ve fallen short. We now set our sights far short of all God would have for us.

This is particularly why Ephesians 1:22-23 stands out so boldly as a declaration of unparalleled majesty and dominion. Words scarcely communicate the grandeur of Paul’s statement. Crowned with glory and honor, with everything in subjection under His feet. This is not simply Jesus given power over one particular time or place. Jesus is not simply given dominion over 1st-century Jerusalem. Paul reminds us here in Ephesians that Christ is seated at the right hand of God in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the one to come (Ephesians 1:20-21). All things. For all time. Jesus Christ is the Lord of everything, forever and always. This is where our perspectives will constantly fall far too short.

The scale of Christ’s majesty here is truly unimaginable. To take but a step toward better understanding, know that there are countless trillions of atoms in but a single grain of sand. Every single one of them was created and is held together by Christ (Colossians 1:16-17). Similarly, our Milky Way Galaxy contains anywhere from 100 to 400 billion stars, that many or more planets, and each one a marvel of creative wonder. Each spinning and shining as a declaration of Christ’s power and glory. Christ is truly Lord over all things. It should baffle and scandalize. It should break our brains. Psalm 8, alluded to in Ephesians 1:22-23, puts it wonderfully:

When I look at Your heavens, the work of Your fingers,
the moon and the stars, which You have set in place,
what is man that You are mindful of him,
and the son of man that You care for him?
Yet you have made him a little lower than the heavenly beings
and crowned him with glory and honor.
You have given him dominion over the works of Your hands;
You have put all things under his feet… (Psalm 8:3-6)

“What is man that You are mindful of him, and the son of man that You care for him?” These questions should stick with us. They should point us to their fulfilment: Christ, the head of the Church. Ephesians 1:22-23 should impress us not only because all things are placed under Christ’s feet, but because we, as the Church, are Christ’s body. He does not remain aloof and removed from creation. He draws us close, fills us with life. Despite our frailty and finitude, we are participants in His Kingdom.

We will always fall short of fully comprehending the majesty of Christ, but Ephesians 1:22-23 is a reminder that can be a good thing. Christ is always more wonderful than we can comprehend. Jesus is Lord over all, and it is this Jesus who calls us friend (John 15:15).

Hope, Riches, Power

Ann Higginbottom — Fri, 17 Apr 2026 :00 -0500

Psalm 103 has long been one of my favorite passages. I find myself often wandering back to these familiar verses – and mainly because I am so prone to forget the depth of truth within each line. In this psalm, David is rehearsing the benefits of belonging to the Lord. I frequently remind myself of verse two, which reads, “Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits…” David then proceeds to walk through the significant benefits of “belonging,” including forgiveness, healing, redemption, and satisfaction. In Christ Jesus, the Lord has given us a waterfall of blessings and benefits. And yet we are so prone to forget. We are so prone to wander and leave the God we love.

Like Psalm 103, Ephesians 1 paints an overwhelming picture of the incredible benefits of belonging to the Lord. Paul is impassioned to tell the people of Ephesus just how great and wonderful Christ is. So great is his excitement, in fact, that he can hardly pause his breath long enough to conclude a sentence with a period. There is too much! The benefits are too many. And so, we sit beneath the waterfall of these blessings and learn that sometimes it is good to feel so overwhelmed.

In early 2019, I was grappling with the reality that both of my parents were facing serious diagnoses. Admittedly, it was overwhelming and the beginning of a long journey. However, I look back and see that even in the midst of the chaos, I felt so completely held. Around that time, I had a front yard conversation with a childhood friend who had heard about my parents. He looked at me with troubled and bewildered eyes and said, “My gosh Ann, do you have any hope at all?” That question struck me, and maybe even more so, my answer. I didn’t hesitate to respond, “Oh friend, of course I do. That is all I have!” If not for hope – and most specifically hope in Jesus – we would have nothing. We would not have an anchor for our souls that holds fast even amid storms. Everything else will fail – and only our hope in Christ will stand. There is incredible – even other-worldly – peace that flows from a hope secure in Jesus.

Ephesians 1 continues beyond hope to unpack even more benefits – the riches of His glorious inheritance and the immeasurable greatness of His power. Each of those is a mountainous benefit to behold! The world’s wealth cannot measure the value of our inheritance. As believers, we belong to Christ – we are His inheritance, and we have an inheritance through Him. How could we deserve this? We cannot. Our riches in Christ cannot be measured.

And underneath it all is the “immeasurable greatness of His power” (vs.19). This power – where is it focused? Paul reminds us in verse 19 that it is “towards us who believe.” A power that cannot be measured nor even be contained (not even the grave!) is at work in us and through us and for us. Hallelujah!

Oh Lord, we are so prone to wander. We are so prone to forget! With David we preach to our own souls, “forget not all His benefits!” Enlighten the eyes of our hearts to see the great hope, the lavish riches, and the all-consuming power that belong to us, Your children.

The Chicken or the Egg?

Lance Gurley — Fri, 10 Apr 2026 :00 -0500

The Great Commission

What comes first, the chicken or the egg?

It’s a fun circular causation problem. Both seem to depend entirely on the other for their existence — the chicken comes from an egg, yet the egg comes from a chicken. The question gives us a loop that resists a clean, linear answer. There is a biological rebuttal that takes all the fun out of it, but the point is that there are limits to cause-and-effect thinking. The big questions of our lives this side of heaven are rarely black and white, if-this-then-that moments.

Jesus calls us in the Great Commission to “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.” Seems clear enough, right? We need to tell people about Christ and what He has done for us on the cross!

Yes. But so much more. The Great Commission, as Mark Davis has pointed out, is not a call only to evangelism. Notice that Jesus did not say, “Go therefore and make as many converts as you can.” The command of the Great Commission is to make disciples. But how do we make disciples without evangelism? Or how do we evangelize without disciples to do it? The Catch-22 of circular causation strikes again.

To understand the command, we must examine our own hearts and take the temperature of our own discipleship. A disciple is a follower of someone or something — in the case of a Christian, a follower of the risen Lord Jesus Christ. When we follow something, we aren’t passive. We are actively seeking to know about our cause, and in doing so, further our faith in it. If you are a disciple of the Dallas Cowboys (a different form of hoping for what you do not see…), you will probably never miss a game, you’ll follow the news about roster changes, and you'll hang on every word from Jerry Jones; then, you’d be prepared to evangelize America’s Team to anyone who’d listen. You would have been prepared for the task.

In our Reformed Theological tradition, becoming a disciple takes the form of the Ordo Salutis, or Order of Salvation (specifically, sanctification). Thankfully, we aren’t alone in this work. God has given us incredible gifts towards our discipleship: His Word, which we can study to know Him; His Church, where we can grow together in love with our brothers and sisters in Christ; and the Holy Spirit, by Whom we are sanctified to become more Christ-like. But importantly, being a disciple of Christ, just like one of the Cowboys or anything else, requires effort on our behalf. It’s an effort that wells in us with a compounding effect — the more we understand about Christ’s work on the cross, the more we desire to worship Him and know Him. But to be sure, our effort is necessary — the gospel is opposed to earning, but it is not opposed to effort; effort is required.

But back to our circular problem. What comes first, evangelism or discipleship? For our purposes, discipleship is the command. The Lord’s plan is beyond our means of comprehension. He is ordering all things for His glory and our good, and sometimes that will be both incredibly difficult to discern and yet simultaneously, more true than we could ever grasp. But here and now, our call, indeed, our command, is discipleship.

Mark Dever says it well: “Think of how the flight attendants on an airplane tell you to put the mask over your own face before placing it over the face of the person traveling with you. In the same way, it is okay for you to care for your own spiritual health first. You need to be able to breathe and grow spiritually if you want to help others.”¹ Our ability to make disciples is interdependent on our own spiritual formation — on being disciples ourselves.

By God’s grace, each of us has been brought to saving faith through His work in ordinary Christians who put in the effort. Men and women, sinners like us, who loved us enough to pour into us what was so dear to them: the good news of the gospel. Were they perfect and pure? Absolutely not. But they were disciples, understanding enough of their own sin and failings, and what Christ has done for them, that they were unable to resist sharing the gospel with us.

Brother, sister: the good news of Easter is that Jesus reigns — today and for eternity. If you are His follower, I pray you will love to learn more about Him through His Word and His Church. And I pray that the Holy Spirit will form you as a disciple in a way to heed the command to make disciples of those around you.

END NOTES:
1. Dever, Mark and Jonathan Leeman. Understanding the Great Commission. B&H Publishing Group, 2016, p. 50.

Come Hear the Story

Maggie Wills — Fri, 03 Apr 2026 :00 -0500

During Holy Week, the Church steps into Jesus’ story. We follow Him step-by-step. We follow Him as He leads His disciples into Jerusalem. We follow Him to His death, and we follow Him to His resurrection. We hold the story close because the story holds us together. The story reveals God’s orchestrated plan to bring us back to Him. Dorothy Sayers reminds us that:

It is the dogma that is the drama—not beautiful phrases, nor comforting sentiments, nor vague aspirations to loving-kindness and uplift, nor the promise of something nice after death—but the terrifying assertion that the same God who made the world lived in the world and passed through the grave and gate of death (Sayers, Creed or Chaos?).

Our faith, our dogma, is in the drama, the story, that we walk through during Holy Week. We have faith in the historic, narrative story. The story contains the good news of God’s plan. As I reflect on Holy Week, I try to draw in closer to the story. In the verses above, I hear the reverence of the crowd and sense the chaos. This part of the story reminds me of this essential question: Who is Jesus? The story answers this question. I want to draw closer to moments in the story that respond to this question. In the spirit of the Church's slow walk through Holy Week, I want to practice living in this story. I want to look at moments of reverence in the story—moments that reveal Jesus’ identity. Let’s enter the drama together.

Peter’s Moment of Reverence

Being asked your opinion on something can feel gratifying or even exciting. As they travel from one town to another, Jesus and His disciples talk about what people say about Jesus. And Jesus interjects by asking, “But what about you? Who do you say that I am?” (Matthew 16:15). I imagine the disciples lean in closer as they walk the dusty path. It might excite them to hear such a direct question from Jesus, who loves parables and riddles so much. And He, their beloved Master, wants to know what they think about these things? They look forward to what this conversation will teach them. And Peter jumps in, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God” (Matthew 16:16). Did Peter surprise himself with this? Did he wonder at what he said and recall a feeling of compulsion from something beyond himself to say it? Jesus blesses Peter and says that his words come from God. Jesus tells the group not to share this truth with others yet. With more questions and signs ahead of them, the disciples follow Jesus to the next town…

The Sinful Woman’s Reverence

Jesus sits at the table with a religious leader, and they receive an unexpected visitor. A sinful woman cries at Jesus’ feet, washes His feet with her hair and her tears, and anoints Him with perfume. I try to imagine the smell. Did the perfume smell like wildflowers? Or maybe like the ocean? Jesus’ dinner companion feels offended by this woman. But Jesus commends her for understanding who He is. He recognizes her acts as an outpouring of love. To the shock of His dinner companion, Jesus forgives the woman's sins...

The Reverence of Jerusalem

The disciples bring Jesus a donkey. They will only understand this later, but they obey. The donkey signifies the King coming in peace. The crowds meet Him with shouts of reverence and pleading. They want Him to save them. Jesus and His disciples walk through the chaos. The crowd misunderstands Jesus' purpose in coming to them. They expect and hope for political and military action. But they meet Him with genuine cries of praise, devotion, and submission. The religious leaders fail to see the signs of a Savior. They see a threat. Jesus stirs up the city…

The Mocking Reverence of the Roman Soldiers

The Roman soldiers lead Jesus to His death, but before they arrive at the cross, they mock Him. “Hail! King of the Jews!” (Matthew 27:29). They spit, hit, and laugh at Jesus. Who is He? No one special, it seems to them. Jesus takes their abuse, submits to their mocking, and stays silent. He prepares to take on sin and death, and walks His cross up the hill...

Who is Jesus?

Is there a leader worthy of complete loyalty? Who can forgive me when I do something awful? Who can bring peace out of our chaotic world? And who can confront and defeat evil once-and-for-all? The story we hold dear responds—Jesus. It's hard to leave my contemplations with the Savior heading to the cross. But I know I might miss something if I look too far ahead. How can this story turn out all right? Who is Jesus? Easter is on the way. The dogma is in the drama.

The Agent of Sanctification

Jack Bennington — Fri, 27 Mar 2026 :00 -0500

Only God can provide wisdom for us through the work of His Holy Spirit. A few days ago, I was taking an Uber and got to talking with my driver. I asked the standard question of, “What led you to start driving for Uber?” This question led him to talk about his journey of moving to Dallas from Louisiana for work and bouncing around to different jobs within the HVAC world. I know close to zero about this world, so I asked him all kinds of questions about his work, and he got to telling me about his most recent job as a refrigerator technician. He primarily worked with large chain grocers to fix their refrigeration systems when they had problems. Without throwing any place under the bus, I’ll just say there are some places I will avoid buying produce from now on! What was enlightening about this conversation was that in his job as a technician, he would visit these stores and fix their cooling units, and in the process, would tell grocers to fix the health hazards they were leaving (mold, bacteria, etc.). He would tell the specific store that they needed to clean up their mess, and then he would come back a few months later, and the problem wouldn’t have been addressed at all. It didn’t matter how many times he said it. The employees at the store just didn’t get it. My Uber driver’s words couldn’t bring about the change in these workers. In a similar way, only God can provide wisdom for us through the work of His Holy Spirit.

If you’re anything like me, this is an easy truth to believe but a difficult one to practice. In my pride, I would much rather have my sanctification checklist. “Oh yes, I have that fruit of the Spirit. Now onto this and the other one! Looks like I’ve practiced all of them, and I’m well on my way to glorification!” One of the many issues in this thought process is the fact that none of it can be done apart from Christ. John 15 paints the picture that we are the branch to the vine of Christ. If we aren’t abiding in Christ, we can do absolutely nothing. Nothing! As much as we want to be able to go on and do great things for God, none of it can be done apart from God and being with God. As William Carey’s famous quote goes, “Expect great things from God; attempt great things for God,” I think he would agree that we can’t do it apart from His Holy Spirit of wisdom and knowledge of Him.

In the beginning, the Christian life starts with knowledge of Him. In the middle, the Christian life is done through knowledge of Him. In the end, the Christian life finishes through knowledge of Him. That is what Paul prayed for the church in Ephesus, and it is what we should be praying for ourselves and those around us today. As good as it is to practice the disciplines, love others, serve the community, and give boldly of our time and resources, the most important thing is having the personal knowledge of Jesus Christ, who loved us to the point of death on the cross. Only out of that truth can we do any of those other things well. How we grow in love and grace over time is by staining and saturating ourselves in this, day after day. We’ll never graduate from this need. As much as my Uber driver wanted his clients to know their faults and health code violations, the knowledge hadn’t moved from the head to the heart. Only God, through the work of His Holy Spirit, can provide that knowledge and wisdom for us. May we be fervent in prayer to this end.

Keep Loving

Neatice Warner — Fri, 20 Mar 2026 :00 -0500

Last week, a friend sent me a text, attaching a letter I had written her when my family was preparing to move to Dallas. It was a kind of “goodbye” letter, and closed with, “don’t forget me!” I wrote what I appreciated about her: her love of children and talent for teaching, her love for the church and the importance of relationships within it; her own love for the Lord. The letter was motivated by affection – and by my reluctance and even fear of leaving friends like her.

Paul the apostle, filled with the Holy Spirit, wrote to individuals and to churches as a pastor, and he almost always began with encouraging words, mentioning, with thanksgiving, qualities God was producing among them. To the churches in Philippi (Philippians 1:9), Colosse (Colossians 1:3), Thessalonica (1 Thessalonians 1:3), and Ephesus (Ephesians 1:15), Paul described evidence of God’s power in their lives, demonstrated by love.

In the book of Revelation, the glorified Jesus appeared to the apostle John in a vision and directed him to write letters to seven churches, beginning with the church at Ephesus. As with Paul, commendation came first: the Lord said to the Ephesian Christians, “I know your deeds, your hard work and your perseverance” (Revelation 2:2, NIV translation). He praised their rejection of falsehood and their endurance through hardship. But then the Lord said, “I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first. Remember therefore from where you have fallen; repent and do the works you did at first” (Revelation 2:2-4).

What happened? The Ephesian church had been known for its love—love for the Savior Himself and for His people. What happened to the believers in Ephesus in one or two generations, so that the Lord called them out and called them back to active love?

The New Testament warns of love lost—love that must be the very hallmark of Jesus’ people. Jesus, on the night before He died, told His disciples they would be identified by their love (John 13:35). His people must be a vibrant contrast with the world Paul wrote about to Timothy, saying in the “last days…people will be lovers of self, lovers of money, proud, … ungrateful, …lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God” (2 Timothy 3:1-5).

The Ephesian believers guarded their doctrine, which Paul had urged them to do (Acts 20:28-34). They stood fast under pressure from the world. But Jesus warned them to repent and turn back to love for Him and for each other. Scripture withholds details so that we examine ourselves. Was it pride, arguing, or competition over positions? Did the affluent begin to separate themselves, or was there envy of status and privilege? Did separation of ethnic groups raise its head?

What assaults love today among Christians? Do preferences of church activities divide us? Are we always insistent on convenience and comfort—and being with friends? Are we easily offended? Do we defend ourselves and continue to resent challenges and disagreements? Do we separate because of political alignments?

And we must ask ourselves, is there even a cooling in our love for our Savior? We, like the ancient Ephesians, are strongly called to turn around and turn back to His cross and the intensity and eternity of His mighty love. Only in His profound loyalty can we keep loving.

* Author’s note: ESV Bible translation used except where otherwise noted.

Seeing the Glory of God

Kevin Joseph — Fri, 13 Mar 2026 :00 -0500

Before the rise of the internet and social media, athletes often became well-known simply through word of mouth. Growing up in the Dallas–Fort Worth area in the early 1990’s, I heard stories about the soaring dunks of Jimmy King of Plano East High School and the blazing fastball of Kerry Wood from MacArthur High School. But in those days, there were no easily accessible videos to confirm the stories. Their athletic feats could not be replayed instantly on a phone or shared across social media. In most cases, the reputation of players like these could only be verified by showing up to a game and seeing them with your own eyes. Only then could you determine whether their abilities truly matched their reputation. Or, to borrow biblical language, whether their glory was actually “worthy of praise”.

In the Bible, God’s glory refers to the radiant display of all His attributes. For example, God is all-powerful, eternal, loving, gracious, and just – all qualities that are supremely worthy of praise. But this raises the question: How can we know whether the reputation of our invisible God matches reality? How can we see His glory that we might praise Him? According to the apostle Paul in Ephesians Chapter One, if we want to see the glory of God on full display, we need look no further than the saving work of our triune God in our own salvation. In the Father’s electing love, in the Son’s redeeming grace, and in the Spirit’s preserving power, the glory of God is revealed in a way that leaves no doubt that His reputation is true and worthy of eternal praise.

“To the praise of His glorious grace” (v. 6), God the Father in love chose us to be adopted into His own family. The Scriptures are clear that God’s loving choice was not based upon our moral beauty or loveliness, quite the opposite. The Fall has left us corrupted in every part of our lives. There is no winsomeness in us that warrants or attracts God’s love. D.A. Carson explains, “God does not ‘fall in love’ with the elect; He does not ‘fall in love’ with us; He sets His affection on us.”¹ The Father sees us in all our sin, rebellion, and shortcomings and still sets His loving affection on us.

“To the praise of His glory” (v. 12), the Son’s redeeming grace accomplishes the Father’s plan to bring us into His family. Through Christ’s shed blood on the cross, our sins are forgiven. R.C. Sproul says, “If God treated us strictly according to the canons of justice, He would punish us for eternity. But instead, He is gracious, tender, and merciful… We find the deepest manifestation of God’s grace and love in His forgiveness.”² According to the riches of His grace, Christ’s death paid the penalty for all the sins of all God’s people of all time.

“To the praise of His glory” (v. 14), the Holy Spirit makes the Son’s work a reality in our lives, powerfully preserving us to the end.³ Paul writes, “In Him you also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in Him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit” (v. 13). The Holy Spirit is a guarantee of our future inheritance (v. 14). The word translated “guarantee” means the initial installment insuring the full payment. In other words, the seal of the Holy Spirit is a stamp of ownership guaranteeing our final redemption and glorification.

Is God’s glory truly worthy of praise? The Father’s electing love, the Son’s redeeming grace, and the Spirit’s preserving power answer with a resounding “yes.” As unworthy recipients, let us give God whole-hearted praise today for His glory so abundantly displayed in our salvation!

End Notes:
1. D. A. Carson, The Difficult Doctrine of the Love of God (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2000), Kindle edition, page 536.
2. R. C. Sproul, Truths We Confess: A Layman’s Guide to the Westminster Confession of Faith (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2006), Kindle edition, page 52-53.
3. Harold W. Hoehner, Ephesians: An Exegetical Commentary (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2002), Kindle edition, page 310.

What’s the Plan?

Jessica Fikkert — Fri, 06 Mar 2026 :00 -0500

My father is a professor at a small Christian college, and over the years, he has spent countless hours meeting with students who are confused about what to major in, what career to pursue, and what God is calling them to. Never one to pass up an opportunity to grow his major, he’ll often jokingly riff off the old Evangelism Explosion phrase: “God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life…and I know what that plan is!”

If only it were that simple. Whether we are 18 or 80, just starting our careers or looking towards retirement, I think we all secretly want someone to come along and tell us what the plan for our life is. And even if we think we might have a plan, the longer we live, the more we are met with hard things we would not have chosen: prolonged singleness, infertility, difficult marriages, sickness, job loss, death…and the list goes on. We feel frustrated and confused, wondering, “Can this really be God’s plan for my life?”

But when we read Ephesians 1:7-10, we are reminded of a simple and profound truth: God’s plans are so much greater and better than anything we might imagine or choose. In Christ, God has revealed what was once hidden—His plan to unite all things in Christ. I think it’s easy for us, if we have grown up in the church or have been Christians for a long time, to miss how shocking the New Testament would have been to first-century Jews. After all, we’ve read the last page; we know how the story ends.

The Jews thought they knew the plan. Chuck Swindoll explains it this way: “Frankly, God’s plan revealed in Jesus Christ caught most religious Jews off guard. They were anticipating a great and mighty military victor who would overthrow Rome, rescue their people from all Gentile oppression, and restore the kingdom to Israel.”¹ But God’s plan revealed in Jesus is so much more, so much grander, than what the Jews were expecting. Frank Thielman writes:

God will unify the created universe around Christ. Through the resurrection and ascension of Christ, God has conquered all powers inimical to his purposes and placed them, vanquished, at Christ’s feet (Ephesians 1:20–22a). God has given this conquering Christ to his body, the church (Ephesians 1:22b–23), and the church is itself comprised of believers drawn from people groups formerly alienated both from God (Ephesians 2:1–10) and from one another (Ephesians 2:11–22). Christ will therefore be head over all things (Ephesians 1:22), especially the church (Ephesians 4:15; 5:23).²

I still don’t know God’s plan for my life. But I do know that it is better than what I would choose. I know that I am united to the One who holds the universe together. I have received every spiritual blessing because of my union with Christ (Ephesians 1:3). No good thing will He withhold from me (Psalm 84:11). And no good thing will He withhold from you.

End Notes:
1. Charles R. Swindoll, Galatians, Ephesians, Swindoll’s Living Insights New Testament Commentary (Carol Stream, IL: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., 2015), p. 170.
2. Frank Thielman, Ephesians, Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2010), p. 67.

Grace, Blood, & Glory

Reynolds Walker — Fri, 27 Feb 2026 :00 -0500

The apostle Paul richly articulates the unfathomable depth and glory of God’s redemptive story, lovingly ordained in eternity past, cascading into the brokenness of history with blood and beauty. Above all, Paul desires for his hearers to know the unshakable security they possess in Christ, for what has been accomplished on their behalf is all from, by, through, to, and for Him. Because of the Father’s love, only by grace, through Christ’s precious blood, and solely for His glory, you have been irrevocably chosen and redeemed. In Christ, we are now children of the living God, blood-bought sons and daughters of the King. This is our primary and permanent identity. Though we hear this truth often, does it define the way we think of ourselves? Does it inform our gratitude to the Lord? Does it pervade the way we think of and interact with one another? May we never grow weary of asking these questions.

Regarding adoption, the Westminster Shorter Catechism reads: “Adoption is an act of God’s free grace, whereby we are received into the number, and have a right to all the privileges, of the sons of God” (WSC 34). In Christ, we are full-status family members of the living God— “heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ” (Romans 8:17). Further, “God is not man, that He should lie, or a son of man, that He should change His mind” (Numbers 23:19). In this vein, the apostle Paul asserts: “the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable” (Romans 11:29). We are utterly secure in Christ. And that beautiful, glorious reality was brought about by God, according to His will, before the dawn of time, that the love and life of Christ might dawn in our hearts, “to the praise of His glorious grace” and to His utter delight.

And yet we still doubt. Don’t we? We still doubt the Lord’s goodness. Though we are inextricably bound to Christ, we still question, and fear, and worship with all too frequently divided hearts. We fall prey to condemning thoughts, assaulted by the world, the flesh, and the devil. Praise God that He has revealed His character and our security in Christ so clearly! Though the cacophony of other voices assails us, His voice pierces the darkness and calms the storm, speaking a better word.

In Genesis, Cain’s resentment of his brother leads him into rage and then murder. In His following questioning of Cain, the Lord proclaims, “the voice of your brother’s blood is crying to me from the ground” (Genesis 4:10). The cry of Abel’s blood was one of vengeance and rightful condemnation. Though we were as guilty as Cain, what an utterly different cry we hear from the blood of Christ. His sprinkled blood “speaks a better word than the blood of Abel” (Hebrews 12:24). Rather than condemnation, Christ’s blood speaks and sings: “Forgiven! Free!” We have been redeemed—bought back—by the most precious substance to ever mingle with the dust of earth, the precious, eternal blood of Christ. Utterly contrary to a resentful, older brother, we are continually pursued by the Hound of Heaven Himself, our Elder Brother, and through His unrelenting, deadly pursuit, we have been brought home. May we rest in Him and listen to His voice!

May the grace of our Lord and the peace purchased by His blood be with you, amen.

The Deep Comfort of Difficult Doctrines

Robby Higginbottom — Fri, 20 Feb 2026 :00 -0500

To some Christians’ surprise, Paul clearly and unashamedly teaches the doctrines of election (“He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world”) and predestination (“In love He predestined us for adoption”) here in Ephesians 1. Though the scriptural “evidence” for these doctrines abounds, some Christians—and scores of non-Christians—refuse to accept that God “works” like this. There is neither time nor space in this brief devotional to answer all objections. But whenever a large portion of people reject or disregard a doctrine clearly taught in Scripture, we should ask, “Why?”

So why do so many people have a problem with election and predestination? The idea that God in His sovereign grace chooses a people for Himself and predestines them to be His children offends our pride. We think too much of ourselves and too little of our sin. We think too much of our ability and too little of God’s holiness. We desperately want to believe that something as important as salvation ultimately depends on us and that we have something meaningful to contribute. As much as we may like the song, our hearts rebel against the confession: “Nothing in my hands I bring, simply to Thy cross I cling.” We’d like to think that salvation depends on our will and is for our glory, but if we read Ephesians 1 closely, we see that Paul repeatedly emphasizes that salvation is according to God’s will and for His glory.

May we reason together for a moment? Paul shares this controversial doctrine in the context of what Sinclair Ferguson calls “one of the most amazing sentences ever penned in any language”. Paul is so overwhelmed with God’s grace to us in Jesus Christ that he seems to forget his grammar rules as he layers phrase upon glorious phrase about the amazing privileges we have in Christ. English teachers may not approve of such a run-on sentence, but Paul’s intention is clear: he is seeking to encourage and comfort the church with the message of God’s gracious choice and loving adoption. If Paul wants us to be encouraged and comforted, why are we not? Charles Spurgeon articulates the humble gratitude that should fill our hearts when we consider these great doctrines. Spurgeon writes:

I believe in the doctrine of election, because I am quite certain that, if God had not chosen me, I should never have chosen Him; and I am sure He chose me before I was born, or else He never would have chosen me afterwards; and He must have elected me for reasons unknown to me, for I never could find any reason in myself why He should have looked upon me with special love.

What would cause Spurgeon and others to cherish these doctrines? Some of us have heard stories of women who have been rescued from the nightmare of human trafficking. These women feel so ashamed, dirty, and worthless. When they hear the good news of God’s love for them and what Jesus Christ did for them, they cannot accept it. Their first thought is, “There’s no way that God could love someone as dirty as me.” Can we guess what teaching is the key that unlocks the door of their hearts? The very doctrines that so many of us find offensive and unbelievable! This example may seem extreme, but can’t we all relate to the sentiment: “How could God ever love me after what I’ve done or what has been done to me?” If that question rings true, lean in and hear what God the Father would say to all of His children who need to be rescued from the nightmare of sin.

I loved you before you ever did any of that, before any of that was ever done to you. I chose you in Christ before the foundation of the world that you should be holy and blameless before Him. In love I predestined you for adoption to Myself as sons and daughters through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of My will, to the praise of My glorious grace, with which I have blessed you in the Beloved.

Brothers and sisters, what if these doctrines that most disturb us are, in God’s wisdom, our greatest source of comfort? May the Lord give us grace to take Him at His word and to rest in His love.

Chosen

Amy Tassos — Fri, 13 Feb 2026 :00 -0500

I have a special needs daughter. She has nothing to offer that our culture values in terms of reciprocity. She is not eloquent in speech or even able to engage in fluid two-way conversation with others. Her autistic demeanor can be off-putting to those who don’t know her, and she doesn’t have talents or an education that would give her a footing in life. The concepts of time and money are lost on her, and she has little ability to reason. She has reached the end of her formal education, and while her peers are about to enter college or the next phase in their career development, my daughter’s future is a dead end by the world’s standards. Despite what seems like a great sadness or loss, my hope for her is sure, because I trust the God who promised it. I’m not referencing our future hope of heaven, though certainly that is part of it. I am thinking of the promise God made to us in Jesus that not only secures our eternity but also gives us life and hope in the here and now. We are chosen sons and daughters of God who are daily growing into the identity we have been given.

You see, in God’s eyes, we are no different than my daughter. We have nothing to offer Him that He needs or does not already have. There is nothing that our finite, fragile human selves can give to Him to add value to His world or His well-being (He is the ONLY completely “well” being!). Jesus makes our standing clear in His conversation with the Father in John 17.

Lasting value, we observe, is not found internally (please do not “look inside yourself”) but in knowing the Father. “This is eternal life: that they may know You, the only true God, and the One You have sent – Jesus Christ” (John 17:3).

Not only is our value found outside of ourselves, but Jesus had to come on a preplanned rescue mission to do a job we were incapable of doing. We hear Him tell the Father, “I have glorified You on earth by completing the work You gave Me to do” (John 17:4).

For all our societal hubris of “You do you”, we see that we don’t even belong to ourselves. Jesus is not reminding God, but us, when He says, “They were Yours, You gave them to Me” (John 17:6b).

Then, lest you, like me, have watched too many action flicks touting man’s ability to self-protect based on strength, skill, and fire-power, we overhear Jesus’ gently humbling plea to the Father, “While I was with them, I was protecting them by Your name (John 17:12)… I am not praying that You take them out of the world but that You protect them from the evil one” (John 17:15).

If this makes you feel small and insignificant, that’s good. You’re more in touch with who you actually are than our world allows. Now, consider where all your worth and value lie. You, like my daughter, are a chosen and beloved child of the King.

I love my child dearly. I love her because she is mine. God entrusted her to me. She was not an accident. God did not miss a minute of her prenatal development. What’s more, He chose me to be her mother for this little while. This beloved child helps me to understand who we are before God. We were chosen before the foundation of the world. We are adopted into God’s family, and that comes with a host of benefits (the Apostle Paul calls them “every spiritual blessing”) that we did not earn, could not earn, but were given, nonetheless. David Gibson, in his book The Lord of Psalm 23, makes this statement, “God doesn’t have goodness or love that He might dispatch them; He is goodness and love. God sends these attributes after us as a way of giving us Himself” (p.125).

When we know whose we truly are, everything we do reflects that identity. Our Ephesians passage says that God chose us so that we should be holy and blameless before Him. This is not something we work up with determination. We begin to mirror the Father because His Spirit lives in us. We are enabled to love the world because He loves us. We overlook offenses because He has overlooked ours in the blood of Jesus. We dig into our Bibles because we want to be nearer to the One who loves us. We talk to Him about everything, because that is what children do with a Father they are not afraid of. It is He who makes us holy and blameless.

When Jesus returns to bring us Home, my daughter and I will finally know each other as never before. The difficulty we have in communicating will be gone. More than knowing each other fully, we will know our Father fully. For now, we live, not as orphans fending off threats alone in this world, but as chosen and loved children of God. That is more than enough.

Who Are You Wearing?

Robby Higginbottom — Fri, 06 Feb 2026 :00 -0500

This weekend, our church family had the privilege of leaning in and lingering long with the subject of “God’s Grace in Our Fellowship.” Through preaching and teaching, singing and praying, listening and talking, our hearts were stirred and filled with gratitude. The Lord set a table for us, and we feasted. At the end of such a weekend, we can feel overwhelmed by the amount of content and the pace of life. We experienced so much beauty…how do we not miss it? In these moments, we’re wise to remember what John Piper wrote in Don’t Waste Your Life:

“You don’t have to know a lot of things for your life to make a lasting difference in the world. But you do have to know the few great things that matter, perhaps just one, and then be willing to live for them and die for them. The people that make a durable difference in the world are not the people who have mastered many things, but who have been mastered by one great thing.”

We don’t need to remember everything David Gibson shared with us in three sermons. But we should search for one great thing that God could use to transform us more into the image of Christ. May I attempt to boil that one thing down into a question?

“Who are you wearing?”

This is the question Dr. Gibson shared with us on Saturday morning as he began to unfold God’s Word from Ephesians 4:17-5:21. In this passage, the Lord gives us the powerful image of wearing Christ, of putting off the old man or woman and putting on the new self, which is being remade in the image of our Lord Jesus Christ (Ephesians 4:22-24). This understanding of the Christian life has the potential to get traction in our lives because it is so down-to-earth. Each morning we wake up and ask, “What will we wear today?” We must take off the clothes that make no sense in light of the day’s obligations and put on the clothes that are appropriate for the task. It’s hard to think of a more practical question than, “What are you wearing today?”

The Bible reminds us that ever since Adam sinned, we’ve struggled to dress appropriately for the life God has for us. Adam tried to clothe himself. He reached for fig leaves to cover his fear, shame, and guilt. God knew that that was like a Band-Aid on a bullet hole, so through costly sacrifice, “the LORD God made for Adam and for his wife garments of skins and clothed them” (Genesis 3:21). The Lord did not want Adam and Eve to wear the garments they could fashion for themselves. He wanted them to wear the clothes that only He could make for them. We see here in the beginning the seed of the clothing metaphor that comes into full bloom in the New Testament.

To put it simply: Our wardrobe options are limited. We can only ever wear two people: ourselves or the Lord Jesus Christ. When we wear ourselves, life is about us: our beliefs, our rules, our kingdom, our way, our pride. We don’t think too much about what this wardrobe looks like, because it feels so comfortable to us. It’s all we’ve ever known. But when the Lord Jesus enters the picture, it becomes clear that a change of clothes is not only necessary, but desirable. Jesus lived the perfect life of goodness, truth, and beauty. He died on the cross to pay the price for all the ways we fall short of that life, and He rose again so that we might be clothed in Him, dressed and ready for an altogether new life. When we come to Jesus by faith, we can imagine Him looking at our old self and saying, “Brother, sister, let me take that from you. You don’t need to wear that anymore. I have something better for you.” By God’s grace, we put off the old self and put on the new. We stop wearing us and start wearing Christ. This happens decisively when we come to the Lord Jesus by faith, and then it happens regularly, daily, moment by moment as we live in Him.

Church, WHO are we wearing as we walk through this life? Are we still wearing ourselves, or have we put on Christ? Has the beauty of Jesus’ new wardrobe (truth, righteous anger, generosity, edifying speech, kindness) begun to overshadow our old rags (falsehood, selfish anger, theft, foolish talk, hostility)? Have we died to the old life of self-promotion and awakened to the wonder of imitating God (Ephesians 5:1) as we walk in love, light, and wisdom (Ephesians 5:2, 8,15)? Are we learning to put on Christ, even if these clothes don’t quite seem to fit? Are we trusting that we’re not just pretending, but that in time, we’ll grow into these new clothes as we grow up in Christ? And are we filled with gratitude, “giving thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Ephesians 5:20)? How could we not when we realize that Jesus loved us and gave Himself up for us? That we get to wear HIM! That we get to put on Christ together and be transformed from glory to glory until the Day when He comes and we see Him face to face.

Who are we wearing? By God’s grace, if we’ve put on Christ, may we wear Christ and experience His grace in our fellowship…and share that grace with the world.

THE Fellowship

Robby Higginbottom — Fri, 30 Jan 2026 :00 -0500

Editor's Note: Thank you to Robby Higginbottom for this ETC devotional, first published in 2020. As we anticipate WinterGrace this weekend, may we reflect on God's grace in giving us fellowship with one another through Christ.

What’s so special about the church? People have asked that question—sincerely or sarcastically—for nearly two thousand years. When the church thrives, the wonder of that fellowship is like an oasis in a desert land. When the church flounders, the beauty of the fellowship becomes a mirage, promising much but delivering nothing. In the opening chapters of Acts we witness the work of the Spirit through the fellowship of the Lord’s people. This community wasn’t perfect, but in their fellowship we see the pattern and power of the Lord’s plan for His church. What’s so special about the fellowship?

The Center of the Fellowship. Every fellowship has a center, some cause or connection that unites its members. But the church is unique, because the fellowship is not rooted in college or career, nation or neighborhood, politics or possessions, recreation or race. The center of the fellowship is the Lord Jesus Christ. We are united by our shared faith in the One who lived, died, and rose again for us. We have tasted the surpassing worth of knowing Christ (Philippians 3:8), and being connected to Him radically re-centers our identity and community. We can’t overstate the importance of this point, because when anything peripheral replaces the center, we are in the orbit of idolatry. Our solar system doesn’t hold together without the sun at the center, and our fellowship breaks apart when we make anything other than Jesus the center. What is the functional center of our fellowship?

The Members of the Fellowship. In the world, people come together based on who they are and what they do. In the church, we come together based on who Jesus is and what He has done. In the fellowship, who we are and what we do is not ruined. It’s redeemed and relativized because now we are united with something (Someone!) so much bigger than ourselves. We are different stones coming together to build a spiritual house in which the Lord can dwell by His Spirit (Ephesians 2:19-22; 1 Peter 2:4-5). We are different members coming together to form the one body of Christ (Romans 12:4-5; 1 Corinthians 12:12). We are people from every tribe, language, and nation coming together to be the bride of Christ (Revelation 5:9-10, 19:6-9). Our churches don’t always reflect this spectacular unity in diversity, but rightly understood, we are the fellowship of natural enemies transformed into friends and family by the supernatural grace of God. When our world is coming apart at the seams, can people see in us a whole new way to be human?

The Quality of the Fellowship. The center of the fellowship is evident in Peter’s sermon in Acts 2. The members of the fellowship are united by the Spirit’s work at Pentecost and beyond. The result is a quality of fellowship that has captured the church’s imagination ever since. It’s a fellowship around the Word, as the people devote themselves to the apostles’ teaching. It’s a fellowship around the table, as they break bread and receive their food with glad and generous hearts. It’s a fellowship of worship, as they are filled with awe at what the Lord is doing. It’s a fellowship of generosity, as people voluntarily steward God’s resources to help others in need. It’s a fellowship of holiness, as they are conformed to the image of Christ to be a light in a dark world. It’s a fellowship of faith, hope, and ultimately, love. It’s a fellowship that doesn’t make sense apart from the reality of the risen Christ. Do we long for the world to be drawn to the church because of the quality of our fellowship?

What’s so special about the church? It’s the fellowship that we have with one another and with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. It’s the fellowship for which we were made and for which we were redeemed by the blood of Christ. It’s the only fellowship that will not be broken by disaster, disease, and death. It’s a foretaste of what we will enjoy for eternity in the new heavens and the new earth. Who else can say these things?! Truly, it is THE fellowship. What would it look like for us to devote ourselves to the fellowship in such a time as this?

The Blessing of Christ Himself

Eric Horan — Fri, 23 Jan 2026 :00 -0500

As we began a new preaching series in Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, Senior Pastor Mark Davis posed a question to the PCPC congregation at the onset of his initial sermon by asking them to complete the following sentence:

“Our greatest hindrance in the Christian life is…”

Mark borrowed this insight from the English Puritan, John Owen, who ultimately provided his own conclusion to this thought. Undoubtedly, Owen’s reasoning encapsulates what most of us will find to be a godly explanation for our struggle to live as “holy and blameless before Him.”

However, what comes to mind for us initially as the greatest hindrance in our pursuit of righteousness? Perhaps a variety of temptations and distractions. Boredom, fatigue, and familiarity may ring true for some of us. Maybe it’s other people – even other Christians – who we think stand in our way of seeking to live the Christian life.

Owen doesn’t immediately mention sin or apathy or other people as our primary issues. According to Owen, what offers the greatest hindrance in the Christian life is “our lack of acquaintedness with our privileges.”

The Apostle Paul front-loads his letter to the church in Ephesus with a litany of announced blessings that belong to the saints who are faithful in Christ Jesus. In Ephesians 1:3, Paul bundles together these promised good things by declaring them to collectively be “every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places.”

These blessings, or in Owen’s language, privileges, are both spiritual and heavenly. We are chosen, adopted, forgiven, redeemed, and heirs. Oh! What blessings these are! In contrast to the seemingly physical blessings most often described in the Old Testament, the promises made now in Christ extend beyond the material and have an eternal reality.

While recognizing the astounding benefits God has bestowed upon us by His own choosing and the work accomplished by Jesus, we must recognize that all of these blessings are inseparable from the person of Christ and our being united to Him. As Sinclair Ferguson has said,

“We cannot separate the blessings of
salvation from the One in whom they
are found and experienced, Jesus Christ.”¹

Recently, my wife and I (and our four sons) embarked on our first college drop off. In many ways, this was an adventure I had dreaded for 18+ years. The idea of leaving my oldest son on his own and returning home as a family of five – instead of six – was something I did not anticipate with gladness. Surely, his leaving would upset our family dynamic and leave a hole where we had enjoyed watching him play sports, strum his guitar, entertain friends in our home, and grow in maturity as a young believer. I certainly would miss the things that accompany having him in close proximity – and, in particular, under our roof. I vividly recall the first morning after we had returned home without him, having a new understanding of his absence. My longing was not for any particular activity or experience with him, but it was the thought that he was not in his bed and that he would not walk down the stairs that morning. What suddenly became evident to me was that I was simply going to miss his presence – his person.

As believers, we ought to have the same longing when it comes to Christ. Our attention, rightfully so, is often directed to the works of Christ and what He has won for us. Yet, as Paul describes the blessings which are ours in Christ, he also makes known that the foundation and capstone for every spiritual blessing is our being united to His person. How often do we meditate simply on Jesus and His attributes? His beauty, His love, His gentleness, His steadfastness, His power and majesty, and His holiness.

Paul goes on near the end of this opening doxological and theological proclamation to highlight the assurance of our heavenly inheritance, which comes by way of the “sealing of the Holy Spirit” (Ephesians 1:13-14). What exactly has been “sealed”? Certainly, all of the blessings previously detailed in Chapter One are in view here. But, even more so, we have been sealed to Jesus. Amazingly, we are His inheritance – and He is ours.

If we are to be properly “acquainted with our privileges” as followers of Christ – surely we must first and foremost consider the astounding nature of what it means to be “in Christ” – and to have Him as our own. Each and every spiritual blessing in Christ is ours now – and will be for all eternity. The Lord has given us a foretaste of what will be ours in glory forever. May we live in light of this current and future reality with the assurance Paul sought to convey to the early church believers in Ephesus. And may we bless (praise) God as those who have been blessed with all that Christ has to offer – namely Himself.

References:
1. Sinclar Ferguson, Things Unseen, 2024

Never Get Over It

Kari Stainback — Fri, 16 Jan 2026 :00 -0500

The apostle Paul penned this letter of Ephesians around A.D. 62 while in a Roman prison. Though Paul was at risk of losing his life there, he was concerned about the spiritual needs of the churches God founded through him. After nearly ten years, Paul began his ministry in Ephesus, and he was concerned about the spiritual needs of these young believers. This letter was likely a circular letter in that it was sent from church to church in the area in which the gospel had spread, so that they may grow in their understanding of the Christian faith.

Paul’s letter-writing skills followed a precise writing form of the day, yet he had changed the content so that he communicated the most important spiritual truths from the beginning in the introduction of the letter.

The two words he uses to begin his message to the Ephesians are a blessing: a type of prayer. Paul asks God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ to give them grace and peace. “Grace” is God’s unmerited favor and love toward His children. “Peace” comes from the word “shalom,” meaning the well-being of our whole lives because of being rightly related to the Lord.

More than a decade earlier, Paul was known as Saul of Tarsus. He was a devoted rabbi and the leader of the anti-Christian movement in Jerusalem. As a young man, he held the cloaks of the witnesses to the stoning of Stephen as he gave approval to the martyr’s execution (Acts 7:58-8:1).

Saul’s persecution against Jerusalem Christians continued until Jesus stopped him on the road to Damascus, and he was converted (Acts 9). Following this life-transforming event, Saul was known as “Paul, the apostle to the Gentiles.” God used him to spread the good news of Jesus Christ on three missionary journeys throughout the Roman Empire in one of the greatest evangelistic endeavors in church history. He wrote thirteen books in the Bible, including Romans, 1 and 2 Corinthians, Galatians, Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, 1 and 2 Thessalonians, 1 and 2 Timothy, Titus, and Philemon. And, in each letter, Paul speaks of grace and peace.

Paul never got over the gift of God’s grace and peace to him. Paul suffered greatly as he shared the gospel from town to town. This often resulted in being arrested and confined by Roman chains. Yet Paul came back to grace and peace in his letters again and again.

A few years ago, I read the biography of Darlene Deibler Rose, a missionary to Japan during World War II. Darlene and her husband were captured by Japanese troops and sent to separate encampments. Several years into her incarceration, Darlene received word from the cruel Japanese officer who gave oversight to her encampment that her husband had died. Her response was to take the opportunity to share with the Japanese officer that she did not grieve as those who have no hope. She shared the gospel with him and told the officer she did not hate him; she wanted him to know that God loved him. The man went into his room and closed the door. Darlene could hear him crying as she sat quietly, praying for his salvation. As the days of sorrow and suffering went on, Darlene learned the comforts of the Holy Spirit. As she said, “The sword of sorrow had pierced deep within me, but He had bathed the sword with oil”.

Darlene Deibler Rose never got over the gift of God’s grace and peace.

Though we do not have the same callings by God as the Apostle Paul or Darlene, we are all going to face trials, sorrows, and even persecution for our faith in Christ Jesus. We need to be reminded of the amazing gift of grace and peace given to us by God the Father and our Lord, Jesus. Christ. I am excited to study the book of Ephesians for the next eight months as a church, aren’t you? I need to be reminded each week of the meaning of these two blessings Paul prayed for me. I need to hear what the gifts of grace and peace mean in my union with Christ and the way it guides me to live well in this world.

And my prayer for all of us is that we never get over the gift of God’s grace and peace.

Greetings of Grace & Peace

Nathan Davy — Fri, 09 Jan 2026 :00 -0500

Every letter of the apostle Paul in the New Testament begins with a variation of this greeting: “Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, to the saints who are in Ephesus, and are faithful in Christ Jesus: Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ” (Ephesians 1:1-2). Paul’s letters to Timothy include “mercy” along with grace and peace, and in a few of his letters, for example, the one to the Romans, there is much more description interpolated into the simple formula, but they too eventually include the same blessing: “Grace to you and peace.”

In some ways, this is not remarkable. In its basic formula, it is the same greeting with which all letters began at the time: in the book of Acts, when Paul was arrested in the temple, and the Roman tribune sent him on to the governor, the tribune begins his explanatory letter in this way, “Claudias Lysias, to his Excellency the governor Felix, greetings" (Acts 23:26). Peter and Jude also begin their letters in similar ways: “Peter, an apostle of Jesus Christ, to those who are elect…may grace and peace be multiplied to you” (1 Peter 1:1-2). “Jude, a servant of Jesus Christ and brother of James, to those who are called, beloved in God the Father and kept for Christ Jesus: may mercy, peace, and love be multiplied to you” (Jude 1-2). Even John begins Revelation with “John to the seven churches that are in Asia: Grace to you and peace from Him who is and who was and who is to come” (Revelation 1:4).

What a difference, though, between the “greetings” of the tribune to the governor and the “grace and peace,” the “mercy, peace, and love” of Paul and the other disciples to the saints in Christ! Each time Paul greets the saints of the church, he makes sure to bless them – no mere “greetings”. What is the nature of our greeting of others? Do we just say “hi” and move along, or do we bless them?

My wife was at our neighborhood Trader Joe’s the other day. We have a large family. She spends a lot of time at Trader Joe’s. One result of this is that she has developed relationships with several of the employees – and the week prior, she had met someone new and had spent a few minutes talking with her as she restocked the shelves. When this lady saw her again, her face brightened in a delighted smile, and she said, “Hi, Laura!” with such a contagious joy that you couldn’t help but smile yourself. When you greet someone with the grace and peace of Christ, even if you do not use the words “grace and peace,” you can share the joy that you have as a saint in Christ.

By way of contrast, I confess that I sometimes allow myself to be too preoccupied to greet someone with the warmth that I ought to as their brother in Christ. How could I be more gracious? When I hold out the grace of Christ to another, I can overlook my own “needs” (which are mostly not really needs) and think more of my brother than myself. I can put aside the things that falsely claim my attention and give it instead to my sister. How can I show the peace of Christ to another? As Proverbs states, “A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word turns up anger” (Proverbs 15:1). If I greet someone with the peace of Christ, any resentment they may hold against me for having offended them (or vice versa) dissolves. Does your demeanor, and do your words, extend grace and peace to those with whom you interact? Or do you rather extend your anxiety, irritability, and preoccupation? You have a choice – you can share Christ in you with others, or you can share your sin. “Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.” (Ephesians 4:29)

In the book of Ruth, Boaz greets the men reaping his field, “The Lord be with you!” and they respond to him, “The Lord bless you” (Ruth 2:4). I don’t necessarily think that we should insist on saying these words instead of a more usual “hello, friend!” – but our face, our voice, our attention, and our time can still say to others “grace to you and peace, in the Lord Jesus Christ.”

This is What God is Like

Amy Tassos — Fri, 26 Dec 2025 :00 -0500

Jesus is “the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of His nature.” We can take this literally, as when Jesus was transfigured on the Mount of Olives (Matthew 17:2, Mark 9:2). One day, when we meet Him face to face, we too will reflect His brilliance, just as Moses did (Revelation 22:4, Exodus 34:29). Besides a literal glow, we can also understand the radiance of Jesus figuratively. He bore a presence that drew disciples to Him. Jesus, Hebrews is telling us, mirrors God’s glory and God’s nature. Hebrews says, Jesus is what God is like. Jesus, Himself, tells us, “If you have seen Me, you have seen the Father” (John 14:9).

We know what God is like because He tells us what He is like.

“…The LORD, the LORD, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, but who will by no means clear the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children and the children's children, to the third and the fourth generation” (Exodus 34:6-7).

We also know what God is like because the enfleshed Jesus shows us.

He is merciful.

“And Jesus went throughout all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the gospel of the Kingdom and healing every disease and every affliction. When He saw the crowds, He had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd” (Matthew 9:35-36).

THIS IS WHAT GOD IS LIKE.

He is gracious.

“He laid aside His outer garments, and taking a towel, tied it around His waist. Then He poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was wrapped around Him” (John 13:4-8).

THIS IS WHAT GOD IS LIKE.

He is slow to anger.

Paul, former persecutor and murderer of God’s people, proves to us that Christ is slow to anger with even the hardest of sinners, giving them time to repent that they might be saved.

“But I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost [of sinners], Jesus Christ might display His perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in Him for eternal life” (1 Timothy 1:16).

THIS IS WHAT GOD IS LIKE.

He abounds in steadfast love and faithfulness.

The apostle Peter denied knowing Jesus three times before He was led to His death. His own fear led him to lie and abandon his friend. After Jesus is resurrected, He seeks out Peter, specifically, asking him three times, “do you love Me?” and then, in as many times as Peter denied his friend, Jesus entrusts Peter with the care of His people, not because Peter was faithful, but because Jesus is faithful (John 21:15-17).

THIS IS WHAT GOD IS LIKE.

He forgives iniquity, transgression, and sin.

Zacchaeus “was a chief tax collector and was rich.” An extortionist, Zacchaeus took more money from people than he should have, and more than he needed. The people knew it and he knew it, but money was his god, until Jesus came to town, that is. What was it about Jesus’ demeanor and countenance that confronted Zacchaeus with his sin in such a way that he could not turn away from the forgiveness Jesus offered him? (Luke 19:1-10)

THIS IS WHAT GOD IS LIKE.

He will by no means clear the guilty.

Allowing sin to go unpunished would mean that God is not a just God. Because God is merciful, gracious, and slow to anger, He made a way for the guilty (that’s all of us) to be cleared. He gave Jesus, the exact imprint of His nature (fully God, yet fully Man) to be our Substitute. Jesus died in our place because “God gave Him who knew no sin to be sin for us” (2 Corinthians 5:21). It is even more humbling, then, that we are called His brothers (and sisters), children of the living God (1 John 3:1).

THIS IS WHAT GOD IS LIKE.

All Things Christmas

Robby Higginbottom — Fri, 19 Dec 2025 :00 -0500

As another December rolls by, how are we feeling about all things Christmas? The season can feel like a jumbled mess of awe and anxiety, faith and festivities, God and gifts, merriment and madness, stables and sleighs. With this swirling concoction of all things Christmas, how do we find and hold onto the center of it all? The Apostle Paul gives us the answer in Colossians 1, interestingly, in the same words that seem to be the problem. When we are overwhelmed by all things Christmas, we need to see how Jesus relates to all things at Christmas.

If we asked, “How do you feel about all things Christmas?” Paul would provide a very different answer. He would rejoice in the celebration of the season because his focus would be crystal clear. This holiday (holy day) has a singular focus: Jesus, “the image of the invisible God.” Of all the beautiful sights of the season, nothing rivals the One who came, the Word made flesh, True God and True Man in one Person. Why is He uniquely worthy to be the centerpiece? “For by Him ALL THINGS were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible.” The child who gazed into Mary’s eyes and babbled baby talk was the very God who said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. “ALL THINGS were created through Him and for Him.” Jesus was the only child who could go outside and see a blade of grass or a tree or a pond (or a person!) and say, “This was created through Me and for Me.” “And He is before ALL THINGS, and in Him ALL THINGS hold together.” The One who came over 2,000 years ago was before all things. He was before anything else was. And as soon as anything else was, He was holding it together by the word of His power. “For in Him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell.” All the glorious things that make God…God…were pleased to dwell in Jesus Christ. And through Jesus Christ, God was pleased “to reconcile to Himself ALL THINGS, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of His cross.” At the center of God’s plan to redeem His beloved people and renew His broken world was a Son, a Savior, a Substitute, a Sacrifice. Jesus would die, nailed to a tree that He made, to pay the price His people should have paid. Christ was torn apart to bring about God’s “plan for the fullness of time, to unite ALL THINGS in Christ” (Ephesians 1:10).

It’s an altogether different “all things Christmas” when we see that Jesus is all things Christmas. He is the radiance of the glory of God, the Creator of all things, the Sustainer of all things, and the Redeemer of all things. Paul tells us that Jesus is all of these things so “that in everything (ALL THINGS!) He might be preeminent.” So if we’re drawn to the lists of Christmas, Jesus is at the top. If we’re drawn to the lights of Christmas, Jesus outshines them all. If we’re drawn to the gifts of Christmas, who can out-give God? If we’re drawn to the love of Christmas, Jesus is Love come down for us. If we’re overwhelmed with all things Christmas this year, may God give us grace to see Jesus at the center of ALL THINGS. When we yield to all things Christmas, the season runs us over and leaves us feeling empty. But when we yield to our Lord Jesus, preeminent in all things, the Savior runs with us and fills our hearts with His love, joy, and peace. “For in Him the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily, and you have been filled in Him.” This Christmas, do we believe that we have ALL THINGS in Him?

The Yellow Leaves

Maggie Wills — Fri, 12 Dec 2025 :00 -0500

A few weeks ago, a yellow tree caught me as I stumbled. I carried frustration and melancholy with me. At times, I can carry these things, talk to God, and let them go. But other times, especially in winter, I tend to let worries and discontentment walk with me. These feelings join me in different ways. They welcome longer nights and light them by the blue screen of my phone. They lurk as I grow tired of seeing ads for too-expensive pajamas on Instagram. They remind me that my life doesn’t look like the last third of a Hallmark movie yet. It’s harder for me to retreat from this pity-party state of mind in winter. The darker, colder days cause me to stumble.

But on a late November day a few weeks ago, the tree on my path to my apartment guided me out of the dark. I like this tree. It stands by a set of stairs leading to my apartment. I noticed it each day in autumn because its leaves shone a bright yellow. On that November day, the tree shed a lot of its leaves. I stopped on my way home and looked. Yellow leaves gathered at the base of every stair on my path.

As I crunched the bright leaves leading me home, I remembered Jesus. I remembered that “Those who walk in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in the land of darkness, on them has light shone” (Isaiah 9:2). Jesus lights my path. But not only mine. The apostle Paul reminds me that, “by Him all things were created” (Colossians 1:16). During creation, God said, “let there be light” (Genesis 1:1). And when Jesus came, He said He came to be the “Light of the World” (John 8:12). The light of His creation scattered on each stair step. The leaves lit my path.

Paul also reminds me that Jesus created the world and "in Him all things hold together" (Colossians 1:17). Jesus not only created the universe, but He also rules, orchestrates, and sustains it. I exist under His care and providence.

I noticed this morning that my yellow tree is bare. Only thin branches remain. I know the bleak winter will come for me again. But I know that Jesus lights my path, that He created and sustains me. He reminded me with the fallen leaves, and He reminds me all the time in so many ways.

When my family pulls out old photos, they point to one of their favorites of me as a toddler. They took the photo during a Colorado blizzard in the few years we lived there. I don’t remember much about Colorado. I was born on St. Simons Island, Georgia. Our family lived in Colorado for a few years before moving back to Georgia. The photo shows me in our Colorado house with the blizzard outside. I am wearing my Winnie-the-Pooh swimsuit. I know sometimes the melancholy of winter will come. But I will remember my defiant, toddler self. She loved the beach even during the blizzard. My Creator, who made the yellow leaves and the sun, made me, made the world, and catches me when I stumble.

The Fullness of the Incarnation

Robby Higginbottom — Fri, 05 Dec 2025 :00 -0500

Here we are again. Another Advent season. Christmas is coming. The words of the season ring in our ears: “Merry Christmas!” “Happy holidays!” “Joy to the world, the Lord is come!” But for some reason, I’m focused on a different word this week. It’s the word made famous by that Scrooge Ebenezer. It’s the word, “Bah!” But I don’t mean, “Bah! Humbug!” I mean BAH, a new acronym I coined. In my mind, these letters stand for “Be All Here.” Now I realize: BAH probably won’t become a movement, but it’s moving in me. It’s the word I can whisper to myself when I’m distracted by my phone and missing a moment with my wife or my children. “BAH. Don’t miss this. Be all here.” It’s the word I can rehearse when fear and anxiety cloud my vision of things unseen. “BAH. God is at work in ways you can’t see. Be all here.”

Isn’t it interesting that we even need a reminder to “be all here”? Babies don’t need encouragement to be fully present. Their world is their immediate surroundings, and they’re able to be all there naturally. But somewhere along the way, we lose our way. Now we’re everywhere and nowhere, here but somewhere else. Missionary and martyr Jim Elliot once said, “Wherever you are, be all there.” The older I get, the more I realize how important that is…and how impossible. It’s so hard for us to be fully present. When we’re at home, we’re thinking about work. When we’re at work, we’re thinking about home. When we’re not with people, we’re wishing we were. When we’re with people, we’re thinking about the game, the groceries, and the gifts we need to buy. Among all living creatures, humans uniquely struggle to be present. “Bah! Humbug!” some of us might say. “That’s just the way it is.” But I say, “No. BAH. Be all here.” In the middle of the struggle, there’s good news.

We’re not fully present when we’re alone or with other people. But our presence problem is bigger than that. Because of our sin, we’re not fully present to God. The Bible says that we were at the beginning, but Adam chose independence over dependence on God. He chased what his eyes saw instead of trusting what his ears heard. When Adam fell, he and Eve lost the joyful presence of God. And the rest of the story is about how the sons of Adam and the daughters of Eve might get it back. Spoiler alert: We can’t, not on our own. And that’s why the message of Christmas is so earth-shaking. When we couldn’t get to God, God came for us. As John says, “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14). The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit didn’t remain in their Trinitarian cul-de-sac. Jesus, the second Person of the Trinity, put on flesh and moved into our neighborhood. We’re stirred by the stories of people moving into the slums of India or the inner-city of America, but nothing rivals the movement of God into our world. “Word” and “flesh” aren’t supposed to go together. But in the Incarnation, they do. God becoming man is the great mystery to our feeble minds and the great comfort to our aching souls. Are we in awe of the mystery? “The Ancient of Days has become an infant” (John Chrysostom).“ He was carried by hands that He formed” (Augustine). “The tiny baby in the manger contained the power which created the galaxies and set the stars in their courses” (Madeleine l’Engle). Are we embracing the comfort? “In Him the fullness of God dwells bodily” (Colossians 2:9). So when Jesus walked the Earth, God was all here. The fullness of God is in Jesus Christ, who came to live and die and rise again so that we might know the fullness of His presence in our lives. What could be more comforting?

This Christmas, as we struggle to be all here, let’s meditate on the wonder of the Incarnation. In this mysterious moment over two thousand years ago, God was all here. He became like us so that we might become like Him. By the power of His Holy Spirit, God is still all here. He is with us, working in us that which is pleasing to Him. This Christmas, we may be looking for many things, but only in Jesus can we find the fullness for which we long. “For from His fullness we have all received, grace upon grace” (John 1:16). This Advent season, as we remember the Lord’s coming and wait for His return, may the Lord give us grace to be all here. BAH!

Salvation Belongs to the LORD

Jessica Fikkert — Fri, 28 Nov 2025 :00 -0500

I’m fairly certain the book of Jonah was written by a Presbyterian. Over the past 10 weeks that we’ve spent in the book of Jonah, we’ve witnessed God’s providence and sovereignty at work to accomplish His redemptive purposes. He saves who He will, how He will. This theme is neatly summarized at the climax of Jonah’s prayer in 2:9: “Salvation belongs to the LORD!”

But perhaps our study of the book of Jonah has left you with a question—if Salvation belongs to the LORD, where do you and I come in? If God doesn’t need Jonah to reach the Ninevites, why not leave him alone?

This Thanksgiving week, I’ll be home in Tennessee with my three-year-old nieces, and at some point, we’ll bake together. Baking with three-year-olds is not efficient. It’s messy, slow, and may end with a tantrum or two. But that’s not the point. The point is joy. The point is delighting in being together and creating together—of seeing my nieces excited to help me (and sneak some chocolate chips). And that’s a bit what it’s like with God.

God delights when His children, whom He has created in His image, join with Him in His mission. God has always been on mission to draw people to Himself. His choosing of Israel was not for the sake of Israel alone but so that through them, the Gentiles would be drawn to Israel’s God (Exodus 19:5-6; Isaiah 49:6). Israel had a special calling, a calling which Jonah ran from. God is going to accomplish His purpose of reaching the nations—but will Jonah forfeit the privilege of being part of this mission?¹

As God’s covenant people, we too, like Jonah, have been given the privilege of joining God’s mission. God doesn’t need our help—but He wants it. And for us, this is the path to true joy.

¹I’m indebted to Dr. Jack Collins for this explanation of the book of Jonah.

Of Prophets and Providence

Lance Gurley — Fri, 21 Nov 2025 :00 -0500

Christians are complex people, and necessarily so. When you walk outside on a crisp fall morning and see the beautiful colors of the changing leaves, you recognize the wonder of God’s creation. When you witness a young child laugh uncontrollably for the first time, you see joy manifested. And so on and so on. Beauty, grace, awe, wonder – there is so much to soak up this side of heaven. And yet, we don’t need to look much further to notice the brokenness that is equally all around us. Wounded relationships, broken bodies, or the death of our loved ones. As Christians, we must hold in balance both the blooming flowers and the tragedy of sin. Two things can be true at the same time.

But if we are being intellectually honest, we can only hold those truths together with an understanding of a Creator who orders it all for His glory and our good. Even that which we couldn’t possibly understand. God’s Word in the last chapter of Jonah’s story helps us to see ourselves in light of the order of the universe.

As we read Jonah, we sit in the cheap seats and watch as God’s petulant prophet fights the inevitable and then stomps his feet all the way to self-induced misery. In this last chapter, Jonah makes the mistake of despair in the shadow of providence. He neglects the fact that, as he sat on his stump of unqualified judgment, it was his Creator’s hand working for his good. What he discovered then, and we are reminded of now, is that God is at work directing everything to its appointed end.

The text is filled with examples of the Lord’s hand at work – He is “appointing” everywhere. Right on the page, we see that the Lord appointed the plant to give Jonah shade. He appointed the worm that attacked the plant and withered it. He appointed the scorching east wind to magnify the discomfort. All for Jonah’s good and the Lord’s glory. This doctrine of providence is pervasive.

And yet, here is God’s chosen prophet still sulking in disbelief; or, as one commentator puts it, “needlessly plunging himself into distress from the violence of his own unhallowed temper.”ⁱ We read in disbelief as Jonah feels victimized by God’s hand at work, when we so often emulate Jonah in our own lives.

Thankfully, we have the tools of the saints of old to remind us. Question 27 in the Heidelberg Catechism reads: “What do you understand by the providence of God?” The answer comes: “Providence is the almighty and ever-present power of God, by which He upholds, as with His hand, heaven and earth and all creatures, and so rules them that leaf and blade, rain and drought, fruitful and lean years, food and drink, health and sickness, prosperity and poverty—all things, in fact—come to us not by chance but from His fatherly hand.”

Sometimes, God’s providence can feel like He is against us, and how quickly we are accepting of that narrative. Jonah certainly was – he was audacious enough to say to his own Creator that “it is better for me to die than to live.” And if we are being honest, sometimes it can feel like He is killing all that we care about, even what we are certain in our own minds is righteous. But in the instant case as well as in all of ours, He isn’t killing us – He is killing sin. He is killing our perceptions of control, our idols, and our pride. He is killing sin that is sometimes very dear to us.

But the Lord doesn’t leave us alone to sort out the details – we have His Scripture as our guide. To paraphrase Ligon Duncan, the Word of God is a conspiracy to bless us.ⁱⁱ We can know through faith that Jesus reigns, and His commands for our lives are integrated into His perfect design to bless us.

The story of Jonah is incredible, even illustratively supernatural. And it can be so captivating that we could so easily hang on the question at the end: “And should I not pity Nineveh, that great city?” We are left wondering, what was Jonah’s response? Where is the Old Testament lament? All the tearing of clothes, sackcloth, and ashes stuff?

The theological point of the silence is, of course, intentional. It is not a hanging-chad of biblical errancy. It is the Lord asking you, how will you respond to His providence? How often are we stomping our feet like Jonah at the providence at hand?

“This present providence may disappoint, but the promises of God will never deceive.” Matthew Henry ⁱⁱⁱ

ⁱ Patrick Fairbairn, Jonah: His Life, Character and Mission (Edinburgh: John Johnstone, 1849), 97.
ⁱⁱ Ligon Duncan, “Sanctification is Good News for the Christian”, The Gospel Coalition, TGCW21, 7/14/22
ⁱⁱⁱ Matthew Henry, Commentary on the Whole Bible (1708–1710).

Loving Our Enemies

Leslie Newman — Fri, 14 Nov 2025 :00 -0500

How can someone be displeased when God displays His generous mercy? How can a prophet of God, who was literally kept alive for three days in a giant fish and then vomited onto dry land, be displeased with God’s generous mercy – the very mercy he has experienced?! That is Jonah in this passage. In a sermon from John 18 this summer, Pastor Robby Higginbottom explained to us that Judas lived close to Jesus but didn’t know Him, and Peter knew Jesus, but didn’t understand or know Jesus’ mission. Apparently, Jonah knew God’s character really well and was not happy with God’s mission of mercy. According to Jonah 4:2, “I knew that You are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, and relenting from disaster.” In fact, Jonah knew it so well and hated it so much when God applied His loving mercy and grace to a repentant Nineveh – Jonah’s enemies. Because he knew God so well, Jonah claims that knowledge is what made him get on the ship at Tarshish. Jonah flat-out wanted those Ninevites to get what they deserved. He forgot he didn’t get what his sins deserved from God. The Israelites, God’s chosen people, did not repent, despite all the prophets God sent to them, yet these Ninevites do.

Have you ever wanted someone to get what they deserve? Have you withheld forgiveness or love? Have you held back mercy and wished “calamity” on someone? Oh, the incredible love of God! Even though we were God’s enemies (Romans 5:10), He has not withheld His grace and mercy but lavishes them on all who repent and believe in Him.

Jesus told a parable in Matthew 20 of a landowner who paid those who worked all day the same amount as those who only worked one hour. He reminds us not to be envious or resentful of God’s generosity of mercy. Maybe you and I aren’t angry at God for being merciful, but do we keep it for ourselves? Are we sharing this grace and goodness of God with the lost or with those who are His enemies, just as we used to be?

Oh, Lord! Stir up in us Your compassion for those in need of Your mercy! Give us the love You’ve commanded us to love You with – all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, and give us love for our neighbor just as You have loved us. Thank You for Your infinite and incredible love and grace for us in Jesus Christ. Help us to know You and love Your mission!

The Goodness of God’s Jealousy

Sam Leopold — Fri, 07 Nov 2025 :00 -0500

As we prepare for the holiday season, parents are perhaps bracing themselves for what will inevitably be the post-holiday letdown. With Halloween gone, we seem to skip over Thanksgiving, go straight to Christmas, and now, we find it hard to go anywhere where Christmas presents, toys for kids, and the hottest gifts are not popping up before us as the things marketing professionals are telling us we need. Kids feel it and start to want more toys. I can already feel the pressure of the inevitable letdown when they realize their sibling may have gotten something just a little bit more desirable than they did.

The word jealousy normally carries with it these negative connotations. We tend to think of it on the human level, where we are trying to find our place amongst other humans in the world. When we look at what we have, we tend to think that what others have is better. We are jealous about other people. So when we say God is a jealous God, it takes our brains a moment to move away from human understanding (i.e. I want my neighbor’s house because it is nicer than mine) to the intended divine understanding: “God’s jealousy means that God continually seeks to protect His own honor.”¹ We first see this applied in Scripture in Exodus 20, when Moses is delivering the Ten Commandments from God to His people. In the context of the Second Commandment’s prohibition of idols, God gives a reason, “for I the LORD your God am a jealous God” (Exodus 20:5). So we struggle to ascend beyond our own jealousy of our neighbor, but God’s jealousy emanates from His eternality, His sovereignty, His immutability, His love and passion for His created beings to know Him as He truly is, and His glory displayed amongst the nations.

The Book of Haggai covers Israel after the people have returned from their exile in Babylon, and have returned to Jerusalem, where they should have rebuilt the temple. The people of Israel were more concerned with building their own homes than with the temple. We see that this largely comes from not a direct opposition to God, but from an apathetic stance to what matters most. In other prophetic literature, wood is used to preach directly against idol making. In Isaiah 44, the wood that God intended for provision and for good was turned around to create lesser, created gods to be worshiped. But here the image of wood, which must be gathered from the hills (Isaiah 44:8), is the object of distraction, which has led Israel’s hearts to apathy. Wood that was meant to be gathered for the building of God’s glory amongst the nations instead was being gathered in the hills for numerous hours for something of far lesser importance. God is jealous for His glory shown by the gathering of His people together for worship, and we are jealous of our neighbor and the houses we are building.

If you missed our Glory and Goodness Global Mission’s Conference this past weekend, I would encourage you to see how the Lord was glorified in our worship by watching our livestream replay. God’s glory is now no longer in a temple built of wood, but in temples of the Holy Spirit. It is “built” in new groups of people, in new known languages on our Earth, and in new earthly kingdoms all around the world. That is why we celebrated this past weekend, not for our church’s glory, but for the glory of Christ amongst the nations.

Remember our definition of God’s jealousy: His zealous protection of His glory. This jealousy was so strong that He Himself went up to the hills to seek a piece of wood to build His own house. Wood not to build a building, but wood that would be used for a cross. A cross that would not build up, but would tear down our anointed, chosen Savior. God would willingly choose for His jealousy, His protection of His glory, to be ultimately revealed in protecting His chosen people from the punishment they built for themselves. God is jealous, demanding our worship, because of Christ’s work on the cross. That is a thought that should captivate our minds and protect us from apathy, leading us to a renewed purpose as people of God and as a community of God’s people.

May you see the goodness of God’s jealousy for you, for our church, and for the nations.

***

End Notes:
1. Grudem, W. (1994). Systematic Theology: An Introduction to Biblical Doctrine. Inter-Varsity, 205.

Mighty Repentance

Neatice Warner — Fri, 31 Oct 2025 :00 -0500

I love hearing stories of people coming to faith in Christ—and I will confess, I love the dramatic ones, though I know all believers are interrupted in our lostness by God’s strong and gracious initiative! The record of Jonah’s preaching in Nineveh, and that city’s repentance and belief in God, is a great example.

Another colorful story of new life in God’s power is that of Zacchaeus—a small man who had an eternal experience with Jesus (Luke 19:1-10). Zacchaeus lived in Jericho, where he worked as a tax-collector for the Romans, gathering the empire’s taxes from the Judeans it ruled. Tax collectors were deeply resented, because they were known to overcharge their fellow Jews to make extra money for themselves. Luke’s Gospel comments significantly that Zacchaeus was rich.

Jesus was passing through Jericho, and Zacchaeus “wanted to see who Jesus was.” But there were crowds of people waiting for Jesus. Zacchaeus was not a tall man, but he was innovative and apparently quite fit. He ran ahead of the crowds and climbed a tree to get a good view. But as Jesus approached, He suddenly stopped and looked up. Zacchaeus must have been shocked to hear Jesus call to him, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down, for I must stay at your house today.”

To provide this hospitality was a great honor in this culture, and for a man as wealthy as Zacchaeus, it was no burden. He quickly scrambled down to lead Jesus to his luxurious home, receiving Him “joyfully.” But watching people were astonished that Jesus would ask to dine with such a sinner—a tax-collector!

Like God sending His prophet to evil Nineveh, Jesus clearly was on a mission in Jericho. He went to have dinner with Zacchaeus, who had gotten rich on his fellow Jews’ money. The story of Zacchaeus is briefly told, like that of Nineveh. As with Nineveh, the Word of God came personally to this sinner, uninvited and certainly undeserved, and the change was just as dramatic. Just as Nineveh had believed God and actively repented, Zacchaeus received Jesus, and, though the word “repentance” is not in the text, in Jesus’ grace and power, the tax collector’s life was radically turned. He told Jesus he would restore fourfold anything he had fraudulently taken. Jesus’ comment was, “Today salvation has come to this house...For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost” (Luke 19:10).

Repentance, like faith, is God’s gift (Acts 11:18), and it is mighty!

Repentance opens the way for deeper knowledge of God’s truth (2 Timothy 2:25).

Repentance, in God’s power, brings living results.

John the Baptist, anticipating Christ’s coming, called for “fruit” of repentance (Matthew 3:8). Repentance is more than an emotional response or wishing we could do better; authentic repentance demonstrates Christ-created new attitudes and actions.

Repentance continues as we follow Christ.

As we confess specific sins, we are conscious of forgiveness, and we experience cleansing, as well as the Spirit’s power to transform (I John 1:9).

Repentance has influence.

The king of Nineveh led his city in repentance and received God’s mercy. Zacchaeus’ life change would have been evident in Jericho’s community as he humbly restored what he had taken.

What is our real practice of repentance? How evident is God’s merciful change in our lives?

In the words of Peter, we are called to continue to “repent therefore…that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord…” (Acts 3:19-20)

Arise, Go, and Give His Message

Ann Higginbottom — Fri, 24 Oct 2025 :00 -0500

I still remember exactly where I was sitting on that June day in 1994. As a homebody, the idea of going away to summer camp, even for a week, was daunting. But with a gaggle of other girls from Dallas, I embarked on one week away from my parents at a faith-based summer camp. I was placed in a cabin with two college-aged counselors. One of them was named Michelle. I don’t remember much about her beyond having blonde hair and attending Texas A&M. I haven’t seen or talked to her since that week in 1994, but the role she played in my life is a foundational part of my story of faith.

One night after the large group meeting, Michelle and I sat on the stairs that led to the camp gathering spot. On those stairs, I prayed to receive Christ as my Savior. Michelle walked me through the prayer, and I remember seeing tears rolling down her cheeks.

Nine summers later, I returned to that same summer camp after my freshman year at Texas A&M. I longed to share the message that had been shared with me years ago. For two months, I had the privilege of stepping into Michelle’s shoes for dozens of young girls who weren’t much different from my timid 10-year-old self. Fast forward to the summer of 2024, and I was sitting with my own son on those same stairs at the same camp. He had come to claim Christ as his own that very summer.

The prophet Jonah was reluctant to go to Nineveh. He rebelled. He rejected the Lord’s mission and denied His word. Yet in His sovereignty, God moved towards Jonah again...and again…and again. The power of God’s word is unstoppable. In His sometimes tough and always tender mercy, the Lord uses all His means of grace to accomplish His purposes for those He has called by name. The Lord will save whom He will save…and He uses people to accomplish His purposes. For Nineveh, the Lord used Jonah, a stubborn prophet who lacked compassion. For Ann, the Lord used a young college student with a love for Jesus.

Today, my husband and I are raising our boys in the community where we both grew up. What does it look like to be a missionary right here where we’ve been planted? Who are my neighbors? Who cuts my hair? Who is the girl behind the counter at the coffee shop who knows my name and remembers my order? Does she know Jesus? Could she come to know Him through me? Wherever we’ve been planted, the Lord calls us to live in and through Him. It’s an incredible privilege to be used by God as He saves His people. Wherever Michelle is today, I pray that she would remember the joy of being used by the Lord to bring young girls to Jesus. And wherever we are today, I pray that we would know the joy of arising, going, and giving His message.

From the Sea to the City

Chris Hatley — Fri, 17 Oct 2025 :00 -0500

From inside the belly of the great fish, Jonah prays to the Lord and, not surprisingly, the Lord answers him. However, we should note that the text provides no information as to when during these three days Jonah prayed the prayer in Jonah 2:2-9. We also don’t know how long it took for God to respond to Jonah. All we know is that amid all that damp and darkness, Jonah is eventually moved to repentance. His prayers are those of one confident that salvation does indeed belong to the Lord alone. Even before his feet touch dry land, Jonah is assured that the Lord has already “brought him up from the pit” and that he will yet again “look upon Your holy temple.” Sometimes when we rebel, the Lord is gracious to quickly move us to repentance without much hardship or trial. Other times, like with Jonah, our stubbornness will require more drastic action to pull us back to Him. But whenever conviction comes, our response should mirror Jonah’s: a sincere belief that the Lord will meet us in the midst of our trouble and has the power to bring us safely home.

Now, in Jonah 2:10, we see, as before in Jonah 1:4 and 1:17, the Lord speaks authoritatively to His creation. As a result, the giant fish listens to the Lord (humorously, the fish seems quite a bit better at this than Jonah) and spits Jonah back up onto the shore. At no point was Jonah’s situation out of God’s sovereign control. This is further evidenced by the Lord immediately clarifying His desire for Jonah. Jonah was brought back for a purpose, and this purpose remains unchanged from before Jonah’s rebellion: he is to “arise and go to Nineveh.” Thankfully this time, Jonah listens. Likely still covered in seaweed, Jonah starts walking.

His time spent running from the Lord and reflecting while in the belly of the great fish seems to have convinced Jonah of the Lord’s authority and trustworthiness. There is no debate or push-back from Jonah now. He merely acts according to the word of the Lord. We will later see, however, that while Jonah is moved here to obedience, his heart may not yet truly understand the Lord’s mercy. The same can often be true for us. Obeying the Lord can sometimes be a lot easier than allowing ourselves to feel for others as God feels for them. We can often brute force ourselves into “doing the right thing,” but doing it for the right reasons matters too.

At the crux of Jonah’s mission is the city of Nineveh itself. Nineveh was, for both Jonah and many others in Israel, a city undeserving of the Lord’s mercy. Here in the beginning of Chapter 3, we get a little more detail about it: simply that it is both an “exceedingly great city” and a rather large one, taking a “three days’ journey” to traverse. These attributes may have moved some like Jonah to displeasure, so great was the city and its wickedness. However, I think these details are included to challenge us. Nineveh includes some 120,000 souls; all made in God’s image. Regardless of their morality, this vast amount of human life should prompt compassion in us. We, too, should desire their repentance and salvation.

Here in 2025, there may be cities that stir in us similar emotions to those of Jonah. Maybe the immensity of cities like New York, LA, or even Dallas fills us with skepticism and frustration about humanity. So many people and so many living in sin. However, we should be mindful that we view these cities as God views them: capable of repentance and profound change. Note that Nineveh was “exceedingly great” even before its people repented of their wickedness. Our response to the “Nineveh” of our day should be compassion and prayer. Let us come to God expectant that our modern cities respond to the good news as Nineveh did in Jonah.

Finding Grace When We “Can’t Want To”

Kari Stainback — Fri, 10 Oct 2025 :00 -0500

When my nephew, Wilson, was a little guy, he expressed his exasperation with his parents’ discipline with this statement: “But I can’t want to!” Maybe he just hit one of his sisters or stole a toy away from a sibling. Whatever it was, down deep, little Wilson felt good about that misbehavior. Even when his parents asked him to say he was sorry or return the toy, his deep feeling was that he was doing exactly what he wanted to do, and he did not want to change! Thus, his honest heart cry: “But I can’t want to!”

Jonah 2 takes us into the prayer Jonah prays from inside the belly of the large fish that swallowed him. God ordained the hurricane-force storm that ensued in Jonah 1, as well as the sailors throwing problematic Jonah overboard. This resulted in God calming the storm, and this stunned the men into a newfound fear of Him. And then, in another sovereign action, God “appointed” a great fish to swallow Jonah whole, where he stayed in the large fish’s stomach for three days and three nights. Engulfed in watery, total darkness and wrapped tightly in seaweed, Jonah thought he was at death’s doorstep.

Jonah ran away and rebelled against God’s assignment for him as His chosen prophet. He didn’t agree with where God sent him, who he was being sent to, or why God would have grace on such evil Ninevites. So, he ran in the opposite direction from Nineva. He ran as far as he could go. We can be certain, in Jonah’s rebellion from God, that he had not been praying. Why pray when you don’t like what God is doing? “You can’t want to”.

But in the belly of the large fish, facing imminent death, Jonah began to pray. He came to the end of himself. He hit rock bottom. And it is here that Jonah began to change. Isn’t that the usual way God teaches us the greatest lessons of His grace? When we are at the bottom of our ability to control anything about our circumstances and all our efforts to save ourselves have failed, it is at that point we cry out to God in prayer.

Jonah’s prayer in this chapter is one of turning to God in repentance. It is not rock bottom that changed Jonah. His prayer at the bottom started his life change. When we pray to the Lord God, who is sovereign over all and loves us like no other, we find the greatest secrets of God’s grace in the middle of our crisis. Unbeknownst to Jonah, even as he was reaping the consequences of his sinful behavior, God was sending severe mercies to begin to change Jonah’s desire to obey the Lord.

In verse 8, Jonah makes a statement that reveals he is deserving of this calamity:
“Those who cling to worthless idols forfeit the grace that could be theirs.” (NIV 1984)

An idol is anything we turn to that takes the place of God. In the Hebrew language, the word “worthless” means “vapor”, which indicates further how fleeting our idols truly are. Perhaps Jonah had in mind the pagan sailors whom he had shared the boat with. We can’t know for sure. But what we can know is that Jonah’s most prominent idol was the idol of self and the sin of pride. Aren’t we just like Jonah? We want what we want when we want it. And when the Holy Spirit begins to convict, we cry out, “But I can’t want to”.

Jonah is saying in this verse something he knows all too well at this point. Whenever a believer puts something else in front of God and turns from Him, he is also letting go of God’s grace and mercy.

Years ago, I heard a Scottish pastor say something so wise. “When we do not call sin what it is, we deny ourselves the gift of receiving God’s mercy and grace through our repentance”.

May we all be a people who ask for the Holy Spirit to shine bright lights on our idols, to convict us of our sin, and in the process, may we know the great grace of God the Father who changes us so that we can want to obey Him.

The Sign of Jonah

Nathan Davy — Fri, 03 Oct 2025 :00 -0500

In Luke 24:44-46, Jesus speaks to the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, after His resurrection. “He said to them, ‘These are My words that I spoke to you while I was still with you, that everything written about Me in the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms must be fulfilled.’ Then He opened their minds to understand the Scriptures, and said to them, ‘Thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead.’”

Everything in the Old Testament – the Law, the Prophets, the Psalms, everything – though it has its own historical context and several layers of meaning, always in the end points to Christ. Perhaps Jesus Himself even explained to those two disciples how the prophet Jonah’s terrifying and tumultuous encounter with the giant fish foreshadowed His own death and resurrection. After all, He had said as much to the Pharisees sometime earlier:

"Then some of the scribes and Pharisees answered Him, saying, 'Teacher, we wish to see a sign from you.' But He answered them, 'An evil and adulterous generation seeks for a sign, but no sign will be given to it except the sign of the prophet Jonah. For just as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the great fish, so will the Son of Man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth. The men of Nineveh will rise up at the judgment with this generation and condemn it, for they repented at the preaching of Jonah, and behold, something greater than Jonah is here'" (Matthew 12:38-41).

When Jesus spoke these words, He clearly meant for Jonah’s time in “the belly of Sheol” (Jonah 2:2) to parallel His own impending time in the grave. Jesus referred to His death and resurrection directly to His disciples, “the Son of Man must be delivered over to the chief priests and scribes, and they will condemn Him to death and deliver Him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and flogged and crucified, and He will be raised on the third day” (Matthew 20:18-19). However, He spoke indirectly when addressing the crowds – “Jesus answered them, ‘Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up’” (John 2:19). The Pharisees to whom Jesus spoke in the Gospel of Matthew probably did not understand what He meant when He said that He would spend three days in the heart of the earth. Similarly, when He told the parable of the tenants in Matthew 21:33-46 (in which wicked tenants murder the messenger of the king, kill his son, and steal his vineyard), though they understood something about the parable, that it made explicit judgment upon them, they did not fully understand, or in fact refused to believe, that the son was Jesus Himself.

What would “the sign of Jonah” have implied, then, to the scribes and Pharisees, and why would Jesus tell them what He did, if foretelling His death and resurrection held no meaning for them? The clue lies in the last verses of the passage above, in the comparison between the men of Nineveh and the “evil and adulterous generation.” This is a proclamation of judgment, and the Pharisees would have understood it. In fact, in Luke’s account of the sign of Jonah (Luke 11:29-32), much the remainder of the chapter is the proclamation of woe to the Pharisees and lawyers (Luke 11:37-54). The people of Israel are being called to repentance, and Jesus is comparing them to the city of Nineveh, whose people were called to repent, and did so.

But it goes deeper than that. When Jonah preached, the city of Nineveh, Gentiles, answered the call to repentance, and it was saved from destruction. The people of Israel at that time did not answer the call to repentance, and only about 40 years after Jonah, the people of Israel were taken captive. Now Jesus preaches, the people of Israel again do not listen, and in about 40 years, the temple is destroyed. The sign of Jonah was more than a sign of the immediate event of Jesus’ death and resurrection; it was also a sign of the coming judgment, of the destruction of the old order entirely, and also of the extension of the Kingdom to the Gentiles. When Jesus said, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up” He was speaking of the temple of His body – but He also was about to ascend the throne of judgment, and Jerusalem and the temple would in fact be destroyed. But also, just as Jonah was a prophet sent to Gentiles, so too would the Spirit descend on people from every land, nation, and tongue, and would Paul soon be an apostle to the Gentiles.

Yesterday, today, and forever, God is the same, “gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, and relenting from disaster,” and His mercy extends not just to one people but to all the ends of the earth.

The Fear of the LORD

Jack Bennington — Fri, 26 Sep 2025 :00 -0500

“The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction” (Proverbs 1:7). What does it mean to fear God? It can be difficult to think through how to rightly fear God. He is God after all, but what is the difference between fear of God and fear of something else? Well, when we look at our passage, there is a lot of fear taking place. The two types of fear we see come from Jonah and the sailors on the ship. I would argue that both kinds of fear presented at first are not the kind of fear we are to have towards God.

First, looking at the sailors, there are three instances when they say they are afraid (v. 5, 10, and 16). They became initially afraid when the storm came up against them. Then, after Jonah had told them that he was fleeing from the LORD, they became exceedingly afraid. They knew Jonah was the reason God brought this storm upon them, and they were highly motivated to respond in light of that. Meanwhile, the fear that Jonah had only led him to go to sleep. When Jonah was woken up and questioned by the captain, everything that Jonah said in response was true, except that he feared God. Clearly, at this point in the story, the only resemblance of true fear of God was had by the sailors. While they didn’t know fully the character of God, they knew that He was in charge, and that was more than Jonah could say based on his initial actions.

I would like to argue that both the sailors and Jonah got there in the end when we think about true fear of the LORD. While we never hear about the sailors specifically coming to faith, we see their third statement of being fearful led them to make sacrifices and vows at the end of the chapter. On the other hand, Jonah seems to remember the God whom he had previously claimed to worship shown through his actions of confession and sacrificing himself. True repentance is turning from one’s ways, resulting in an inward and outward change. Reverence is acting out of the overflow of what has impacted a person. Jonah’s reverence for God here leads him to understand that God is in control, and he needs to respond to God’s call.

Frankly, I completely understand Jonah’s moment of hiding and preservation. How often do we act or respond to something with our own power as the primary source? Sometimes it takes a storm to remind a person just how powerful God is. Sometimes it takes a beautiful sunset, encouraging conversation, incredible meal, or a miraculous comeback from your football team. The important thing to consider in every situation in life is what we know to be true about our God. He is, as Jonah says later on, “a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love” (Jonah 4:2). In every storm of life that we encounter, we can have peace knowing that God is with us, and He is working in all things for His glory and our ultimate good (Genesis 50:20; Philippians 2:13).

Are You on the Run?

Amy Tassos — Fri, 19 Sep 2025 :00 -0500

“You do you.”

“YOLO!”

“Get your happy!”

The slogans of the world around us decry obedience to God. Neither God nor obedience is even on the secular world’s radar. Why would they be? The secular world does not know God. They see His handiwork and stand in awe of it, they even worship His creation, some may be thankful to “the universe” (that’s one I have heard with more frequency), but they do not know the Maker and Sustainer of it all as Father or Friend, as One who cares for them deeply knowing they are wanderers in search of meaning only He can give. They, like Jonah, are running from God, yet not slowing down enough to realize it.

Jonah’s disobedience is not the standard case of chasing after his own desires. Rather, because Jonah knows that God is merciful, he is running from God’s goodness!! Later in his story, Jonah quotes what God proclaims about His own character:

The LORD, the LORD, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness (Exodus 34:6).

Jonah knows God’s mercy to sinful men. He knew God was going to use him to save his enemy neighbors, the bloodthirsty pagans of Ninevah. Jonah, a righteous man and prophet of the Lord, is running away because he does not like God’s plan for his life.

Lest we begin laughing at Jonah for the fact that he is attempting escape from the presence of the Omnipresent God, we must acknowledge that we do it too. We often do not like God’s plan for our lives any more than Jonah did. When we ignore God, pretending He cannot see us, hear our thoughts, or witness our actions, we are running like Jonah. When we are on the run from God, we risk becoming short-sighted, forgetting that because we live in community, others will be directly or indirectly affected by our choices.

Consider the man or woman who is convinced that God does not want them in a loveless marriage. The spouse who leaves their marriage does not just forsake their spouse, but also other family members who are always affected by the loss.

The addicts who just need a little help to do this hard life think they are not hurting anyone but themselves, yet they do not realize they are allowing their substance of choice to stand in for them with friends, family, and even at work. They are abdicating being present so they can “catch a break”.

Maybe your rebellion is more subtle. Life did not turn out as you had planned or imagined. What God is asking of you is not what you told Him you desired. It’s not exactly rebellion, you reason, just discontentment or disappointment, but you still don’t want to talk to God about it. After all, He could change your situation if He wanted to, but He hasn’t.

In our right minds, we know running from God, ignoring Him, or pretending He isn’t there is ridiculous. He is omnipresent, omnipotent, and fortunately for Jonah, you, and me, He is merciful, long-suffering, and the very definition of love.

Like Jonah, God has given you and me dominion over specific things in His world, specific tasks He intends only for us to do. As with Jonah, God uses the script of our lives to bring the gospel to those we encounter. God could have asked another prophet to preach to the Ninevites, but for Jonah’s sake, for the sake of sailors from faraway places who worship different gods, and the sake of the Ninevites, this was His call for Jonah. God may not send a big fish to swallow you, but He will send something–something that compels you to tell of His redemptive hand in your life.

I don’t know about you, but I would rather cooperate with God’s plan, even if it isn’t what I wanted in my life. I trust that His plan is better. I trust the God who created the universe and all that is in it, the God who sent His only Son to take death in my place. I am thankful for Jesus the Son, who did not run from the most difficult of tasks so that I have His Spirit with me daily, encouraging me, keeping me, comforting me, and teaching me to do the hard things I’ve been given.

The Presence of the Lord

Reynolds Walker — Fri, 12 Sep 2025 :00 -0500

God’s Word breaks into Jonah’s life clearly and urgently: “Arise, go.” The Lord, who speaks creation into being—who says, “Let light shine out of darkness”—commands Jonah to proclaim judgment against Nineveh (2 Corinthians 4:6). Yet, instead of rising in obedience, Jonah rises to flee. Rather than heading east to Nineveh, he boards a ship bound for Tarshish, far to the west. Jonah imagines that by travelling west instead of east, he might evade the command of God. In truth, Jonah seeks to escape “the presence of the Lord” (vs. 3).

This passage places the breathtaking reach of God’s love on full display. Nineveh was a violent, pagan city—an enemy to Israel—yet God sent Jonah with a word of warning so that the Ninevites might repent. In fact, Jonah runs precisely because he knows the character of the Lord, that He is “a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love” (Jonah 4:2; Exodus 34:6). While Jonah hates the Ninevites and desires their destruction, the Lord clearly demonstrates that He delights in showing mercy not only to His covenant people, but also to their enemies, foreshadowing the gospel’s spread to all nations (Matthew 28:18–20).

If we are honest, Jonah’s response is uncomfortably familiar. His reaction to God’s command exposes something we know to be true of ourselves. Our love often proves a paltry thing, both our love for God and our love for others. Christ makes clear that our love for Him and our obedience to Him are inextricably linked— “If you love Me, you will keep My commandments” (John 14:15). But when God calls us into hard obedience—perhaps to forgive someone who has wronged us, to confess addiction, or to extend compassion to those we find difficult—how do we respond? Do we rise and obey in faith, or do we, like Jonah, quietly run the other way, convincing ourselves that avoidance or delay is safer than obedience? To be sure, we may not buy passage across the sea, but we attempt to avoid the Lord’s commands in quieter ways. When God calls us to forgive, speak truth, or sacrifice for another, we often instinctively seek the temporary refuge of distraction, busyness, or pride.

And yet, the hope of this passage lies not in Jonah’s faithfulness, but in God’s. The Lord does not abandon His rebellious, runaway prophet, nor does He abandon Nineveh. His love pursues! In Christ, we see this love magnified: “The Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost” (Luke 19:10). What comfort that even when we resist, God’s steadfast love remains, drawing us back by His discipline and grace to His presence (Hebrews 12:10). Praise be to God that His presence, far from being something to escape, proves our joy and life (Psalm 16:11). And He will always bring us home.

May you rest in the presence of the Lord until the day when our faith becomes sight and you dwell forever in His presence with joy. Peace be with you. Amen.

An Unbound Book

Maggie Wills — Fri, 05 Sep 2025 :00 -0500

My nephew picks the same few books to read during his bedtime routine. He almost always asks for Where the Wild Things Are, Little Blue Truck, or Curious George (the one where George makes pancakes). He chooses the same books night after night. I’m sure his parents wouldn’t mind something new. But I read Persuasion by Jane Austin for the fourth time this summer, so who am I to judge? Maybe my nephew likes re-reading because he knows the books. He knows their rhythms. He knows he will come across his favorite things in them (trucks and pancakes). And he knows the parts where his parents make silly sounds when the story calls for them. I re-read for comfort, too. I also read great books again because I find newness each time. God’s story works like this, too.

When John tells the story of Jesus’ life on earth, he ends with this:

"Now there are also many other things that Jesus did. Were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written (John 21:25)."

Jesus lived more life than we know. He did so many things that all the libraries in the world can’t hold the story’s volumes. But John tells us his account of the story. That seems like a good start, and God tells us the story of redemption through Christ in so many ways. He wrote it in the Scriptures. He shows hints of it in the changing seasons and in our gardens. And He reveals it in the testimonies of our friends and family. At the end of his account of the story, John reminds readers that we can’t wrap our arms around the whole story. God knows the parts we need to hear. And He tells us the story again and again.

John tells his readers in his final lines that he cannot tell the whole story in any ordinary book. This helps us realize our smallness and God’s greatness. He brings his Gospel back to the start. In the story’s opening pages, John says, “the true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world” (John 1:9). Jesus steps into the world and offers hope. This hope comes from the essential story of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. But parts of the story remain hidden. John tells readers that more powerful works of Jesus remain a mystery. We cannot know it all. In one of his letters to the early Church, the Apostle Paul says, “now we see in a mirror dimly but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known” (1 Corinthians 13:12). Both Paul and John lead us to wonder at all the good parts that we haven’t heard yet. The wondering blesses us with humility and awe.

And as we sit close to the story’s end, John leaves us wondering. This might make us feel melancholy. We want to explore all the great stories about Jesus that exist. We don’t want God to withhold anything, but He does withhold. He knows our limits better than we do.

But God gives this story. The parts of the story He knows we need most. So, in the meantime, while we wonder about what we do not know, we listen again. We live in the story God gives us. God wants us to hear it over and over. Jesus tells His disciples that the Holy Spirit will “bring to remembrance all that I have said to you” (John 14:26). The psalmist writes, “I remember the days of old; I meditate on what You have done; I ponder the work of Your hands” (Psalm 143:5). The story grows richer the more we hear it. We grow to love its rhythms and ask God to tell it again.

In The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, C. S. Lewis captures a scene about a beloved story. This scene reminds me of how I feel finishing John's Gospel. In this moment, the young Lucy must find a spell in a magician’s book. As she reads, she comes across a beautiful story. She loves the story and forgets about the words on the page. She lives in the story. She says:

"'That is the loveliest story I have ever read or ever shall read in my whole life. Oh, I wish I could go on reading it for ten years. At least I’ll read it over again.' But here part of the magic of the book came into play. You couldn't turn back… 'Oh, what a shame!' said Lucy, 'I did so want to read it again. Well at least I must remember it. Let’s see, it was about…about a cup, and a sword, and a tree and a green hill. I know that much. But I can’t remember. And what shall I do?' And she never could remember. And ever since that day what Lucy means by a good story is a story which reminds her of the forgotten story in the Magician’s Book."

A few minutes later, Lucy encounters Aslan, the powerful, all-knowing lion. She asks him if he knows the story if he could tell it to her again. He says, "Indeed, yes. I will tell it to you for years and years." I hope to love the gospel as much as Lucy loves the forgotten story. And I find comfort and newness in the re-reading, even if the whole of it remains unknown. I look forward to hearing it again soon. I want to know it as well as my nephew knows Little Blue Truck.

Through a Tortilla Darkly

Patrick Lafferty — Fri, 29 Aug 2025 :00 -0500

Editor's Note: Thank you to Patrick Lafferty for this ETC devotional, first published while on pastoral staff at PCPC in 2011.

Quick—What do these all have in common: a potato chip, an iron, a block of plywood, a tortilla, a frying pan, a rotting banana, and a Cheeto? Each have been found sporting an unexpected, uncontrived image of Jesus, or so some have claimed. To be sure, most of these alleged apparitions seem more like fortuitous smudges than divine signs. Score one for Rohrshach’s theory of how the mind interprets random phenomena? You decide, though coloring yourself incredulous would not make you a cynic.

We can all relate to the disciple Thomas’ incredulity when he hears of the resurrection, and yet disbelieves the account. Claims of unprecedented occurrences naturally provoke skepticism, particularly if the claim calls for us to risk something important in response.

What the other disciples who had seen the risen Jesus were asking Thomas to believe entailed more than mental assent—nothing so inconsequential as believing that in fact Jesus’ face had miraculously appeared on a tortilla. This belief would compel Thomas to make good on an earlier demonstration of apparent faith: “Let us also go, that we may die with Him,” said Thomas in response to Jesus’ willingness to risk confrontation back in Judea (John 11:16). Now, something more than bravado would have to compel his commitment.

If Jesus had indeed risen, then the world had indeed changed. Sin had been forgiven. Now death had been overturned. A new era had begun. Former allegiances would now have to become subservient to submission to the only One who had followed through on His promise to rise from the dead. One doesn’t conceal the report of resurrection, and especially if belief in the One who rose afforded new, true, and eternal life in communion with the God who authored life. Belief in His resurrection would compel Thomas (and us!) to give testimony to its truth and imitate the life of the One who was raised.

Still, John includes Thomas’s disbelief in the account for a reason, and not primarily to throw Thomas under the bus. For Jesus isn’t against validation of extraordinary claims. If He were, why appear at all after His resurrection to the women, the disciples, the pair on the Emmaus road, and the nearly 500 Paul mentions? Why voluntarily show the disciples His hands and His side—the very thing Thomas insisted upon later—if He were entirely opposed to substantiating claims with evidence?

Jesus isn’t against evidence, but He’s also for belief on the basis of what we cannot entirely see or verify. In fact, He says we’re blessed if we do not see and yet believe. There’s the nub: why are we blessed who have not seen, yet believe? We understand that we must believe without seeing to have life in His name (John 20:31), but why is it profitable to do so?

Chrysostom argued the reward for faith is inversely proportional to the amount of evidence provided. Augustine seconded that notion, saying that confidence in God may be just as powerfully wrought in those who have not seen as in those who had. Calvin suggested that belief by faith demonstrated a better form of trust in certain matters because it bases its confidence, not on one’s own frail faculties, but on the very Word of God. (Eve’s fundamental error was in trusting her own senses more than God’s instruction.)

All these reflections posit the profitability of faith. I’d like to posit another reason for faith’s goodness—a reason derived from our earthy world of Cheetos and frying pans, potato chips and rotting bananas.

You will never walk down a nuptial aisle, nor cradle a newborn child, nor befriend a quirky neighbor, nor pull off to aid a stranded driver, nor send a son or daughter off into the big, wide world unless you believe in what you cannot see, unless you trust that doing so isn’t worthless. Each of those moments requires love because each demands risk. You cannot see the outcome of your actions. So waiting for complete knowledge before you participate precludes participation. It precludes love. Such is the nature of love—normal, everyday expressions of love.

So what Jesus asks of us is not as foreign to normal life as you might think. Blessed are they who have not seen and yet believe, because only then may they engage in love—what love requires and what love can, so to speak, deliver. If God is love (1 John 4:8) and for love God sent His Son (John 3:16), then only by the faith that love demands can you begin to understand God. Only then can you begin to know what it means to commune with Him. You can never love if you make perfect insight your criteria for expressing love. You can never know God if you make perfect insight your criteria for life (Hebrews 11:1,6).

What must you believe Him for at this hour? What struggle, what choice, what lingering thought calls for you to believe God has done magnificently for you and whose love is enough for you? You cannot now see Him as He sees you, but it is not unreasonable—not abnormal—to trust in His love which is believed by faith.

We reasonably smirk at the attempts to see Jesus in a tortilla. But dare we dismiss the idea of believing Jesus by faith in light of what we know of love?

The Doubting, the Failing, and the Grieving

Ann Higginbottom — Fri, 22 Aug 2025 :00 -0500

Sometimes a masterpiece of art speaks a million words. In 1889, a Swiss painter by the name of Eugene Burnand created a spectacular piece named Les Disciples. Known as being a deeply religious man, Burnand was primarily a realist painter of nature – including animals and landscapes. Yet as he grew into an artist depicting human figures, his portrayals were captivating and telling. I was introduced to Les Disciples by a friend after church on Sunday.

The painting is of the disciples John and Peter on Easter morning – the morning of the resurrection. Behind them, a brilliant new dawn is breaking. Morning has come, and sunlight is striking every blade of green grass. The movement in the painting is telling – John and Peter are leaning forward, as if in a hurried state. Perhaps they were running – at the least, there was an urgency in their movement. John, the younger disciple, has his hands clasped in front of him. His brow is furrowed, as if he is straining to see something in the distance. Peter, aged with a beard and weathered lines, is closely behind. I love to imagine that in his youth, John is a few steps ahead. Yet Peter, in his heartbreak and shame, cannot be restrained by his age – he is on John’s heels. Peter’s right hand rests on his chest, as if counting the rapid cadence of his own heartbeat. His face is wild with wonder – eyes bright and wide. Can he already see something that John is straining to see as well? Or perhaps Peter has a look of desperation. Could it be true? All that Mary just said to them…is there any way? Together, the disciples are running, straining, and hoping.

The chapter of John 20 recounts the morning of our Savior’s resurrection. Alongside the staggering beauty and glory of the empty tomb, God’s Word also reveals humbling examples of the flesh. Immediately, we resonate with the doubting. I can imagine Mary. Heartbroken and so deeply, deeply sad. How could anything undo the horror of Friday? Everything has changed for Mary, and nothing could begin to heal what is so broken. But what’s that? An empty tomb? Folded grave clothes? How can it be? It makes no earthly sense. Mary’s doubts shout loud. But a voice behind her is even louder. “Mary,” Jesus says. To the doubting heart, Jesus speaks our name. He moves towards us.

We resonate with the failing. I can imagine Peter – as in the painting – clutching his chest and running with frantic eyes. As he runs, each step pounds with a hope that he cannot comprehend. When he has failed so sensationally, how can there be redemption? What could ever undo the death of his beloved friend? Additionally, what could ever undo his own horrible failures? Yet when he arrives, the tomb is empty. Upon seeing his resurrected friend, Peter’s failure is overturned. To the failing, Jesus restores us.

We resonate with the grieving. Some of us do not have to simply imagine what it would have been like to be Mary. We are well acquainted with the journey of grief. Yet, we can gain such comfort from her experience on that early Sunday morning. In her deep grief and even despair, Mary’s Savior and friend is standing with her. To the grieving heart, Jesus gives us His tender nearness.

Like John and Peter, let us run towards the empty tomb. There, beside the stone that has been rolled away, we can leave our doubts, failures, and grief. If Christ is risen, nothing else matters.

Can I Get a Witness?

Jessica Fikkert — Fri, 15 Aug 2025 :00 -0500

I love children’s books. And so when my twin nieces asked for books for their third birthday last month, I was more than happy to oblige. I did a quick internet search and stumbled upon Go Tell Everyone: 9 Missionaries Who Shared the Good News—the perfect gift from an aunt who works in Missions. I was delighted to learn that they’ve started playing the Great Commission with their dolls and are ready to tell everyone about Jesus.

As believers, we understand the importance of training children from a young age to be witnesses for Christ. Just a few weeks ago, we spent an entire week at VBS teaching our kids how to share their faith. It’s a joy and a privilege to do so. But when we read Jesus’ words in John 15, we are met with a sobering reminder of what it truly means to be a witness.

The Greek word for witness is martureo—it’s the root of the English word martyr. And while the original Greek word does not carry the idea of dying for the faith, it’s easy to see how that evolution happened. To be a witness is to testify about Jesus, and Jesus promises us in John 15 that this will bring persecution. “Do you remember what I told you? ‘A slave is not greater than the master.’ Since they persecuted Me, naturally they will persecute you.”

If the prospect of persecution is off-putting, you aren’t alone. I have a hard enough time inconveniencing myself for other people, much less suffering. But that’s why Jesus mentions it—He wants us to be prepared, because it will happen. So, how should we respond to persecution? While there is much that could be said, I want to focus on two things:

1. Don’t take it personally
Easier said than done. None of us likes being disliked. And it feels so unfair when it’s because we are doing the right thing. But Jesus tells us in John 15 that it’s not about us. When we are persecuted for our faith, it’s ultimately because our persecutors hate God. They are not rejecting us, but our Father. It’s tempting to return hate with hate…but when we recognize the root of the hate, we can make room for another emotion: compassion. Compassion and sorrow for those who do not know the Father and are living as slaves; compassion for those who are desperately sick and do not realize their condition. This paves the way for a second response…

2. Love anyways
We all have an inward desire to defend ourselves, to hit back when we are hit. Indeed, bully Christianity is having a moment right now, as many are fed up with being a punching bag. But Jesus says clearly, “A slave is not greater than the master.” And what did our Master do? He died. He gave Himself up for the very ones who mocked and beat Him. If the One who bore the hatred of the entire world calls us to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us (Matthew 5:44), how can we do anything less?

The cruciform life is a series of deaths—death to sin, death to self, death for others. But through death, glory awaits (Romans 8:18).

Here Is Hope

Jack Bennington — Fri, 08 Aug 2025 :00 -0500

For as long as I can remember, I have always been terrible at memorizing song lyrics. Ask me to name the song or hum the tune to it, and I have that down. But if you want someone to recite the lyrics, I’m probably not your guy. Believe it or not, there are actually some positives to this besides simply embarrassing myself for others’ enjoyment at some of the most well-known songs. Ever since the Good Friday Concert at PCPC last year, I’ve been absolutely hooked on Rob Gardner’s “Lamb of God.” It is such a beautiful piece of music. It doesn’t matter if it’s Lent, Advent, or July, I’ve probably got that album playing in my car at some point during any given week because of how beautiful it is.

While I love the sweet sound of the production, the real beauty and artistry can be found in the words sung and spoken. Every few weeks, I’ll catch a phrase or a line that I had either forgotten or never fully registered, and I’ll just sit in that truth for a while. This week, that has come in the song “Here is Hope,” describing the picture and meaning of the crucifixion.

He who healed our sorrows
Here was bruised and broken
He, whose love no end knows
Here was forsaken, left all alone
Here despair cries boldly
Claiming this its vict'ry
Sweeter peace enfolds me;
Hope did not die here
But here was given
Here is hope

The pinnacle of God’s eternal covenantal work of redemption is found in these words: “Hope did not die here; But here was given; Here is hope.” You can’t drink those words in enough to grasp the depth of God’s love for us in Christ. The worst thing and best thing in the history of the world converge in this picture. In his children’s book The Greatest Story, Kevin DeYoung describes the crucifixion as the best thing. “We break promises, so God keeps His. We run from God, so He comes to us. We suffer for sin, so the Savior suffers for us.” God took what was the most obscene picture of sinfulness and selfishness and used it according to His good purposes for His own glory and our greatest good.

It is both the most humbling and maddening thing to grasp that while we are in this life, we will do the same as those in 1st century Jerusalem when they shouted for Jesus to be crucified and rejected Him as their king. Because of this, I have to run back to the feet of Jesus and remind myself of the reality of God’s plan for redemption in Christ. Thanks be to God that we aren’t tried by our own blood but by the blood of Christ alone when we place our faith in Him. Jesus’ final words, “It is finished,” remind us daily that the hope embodied in Christ, whom we physically put to death, did not die. Through Christ’s atoning work on the cross, God made a way for us, in His providence, to be with Him forever.” More and more each day, I pray that this truth goes deeper into my heart, knowing that my salvation is not in my own works but in Christ’s finished work. His grace is sufficient for me. Today is a good day. Why? Because the gospel is true.

Cross Examining the Narrative

Lance Gurley — Fri, 01 Aug 2025 :00 -0500

Have you ever seen the skill of a talented litigator at work? Earlier in my career, I spent many a day in federal courtrooms across the country. Federal courts are serious places; judges have enormous power to interpret and enforce the law, and they do so by hearing arguments and evidence put forward by top-rate lawyers. It’s the lawyer's job to advocate for their clients’ positions; good ones are brilliant, skillful, and usually possess the quickest of wits to be able to respond to a probing question from the judge or a counterpoint from opposing counsel. Fundamentally, great litigators control the narrative in the courtroom.

Controlling the narrative is not simple; lawyers comb through every shred of information, good and bad. They gather the facts and apply them with veracity. Carefully, meticulously, they prepare themselves and their clients for the days in court, because when the trial starts, everything pertinent will see the light of day. The old adage “sunshine is the best disinfectant” is aptly applied.

The trial in John 18 was no normal event. Annas and the Jewish leaders weren’t concerned with the truth. In a trial in the middle of the night, racing to convict so they could crucify before the Sabbath, the Light Himself stood by to let the darkness cover Him. It’s no small symbolism that the trial was literally surrounded by the darkness of night. What John wants us to understand is that despite all worldly appearances, the Lord Jesus Christ was glorified in the darkness. It is in the darkness of His worldly mortification that we get some of the clearest indications of the majesty of His power and grace.

To be sure, Jesus, wholly God and wholly man, both allowed this event to transpire as God incarnate, and also experienced its wretchedness as fully man. The Light of the world willingly entered into this darkness for us, experiencing the anguish of humiliation, knowing exactly what was to come next. While Annas and Caiaphas assumed they were maintaining their control over the Jewish people through Judas’ betrayal, they weren’t in control in the slightest. Jesus controlled the narrative then, just as He does today.

The narrative was so immaculately sure that Peter even saw it in real time. Jesus set the stage in John 13, foretelling Peter’s threefold denial. Later, in John 18, as Jesus was questioned and humiliated inside the kangaroo court, Peter stood outside, warming himself by the fire, denying the same Man that just hours earlier he begged, “Lord, why can I not follow You now? I will lay down my life for You” (John 13:37).

Aren’t we all Peter? Loving Jesus with our hearts, denying Him with our actions? We can be so quickly overcome by the things of this world. We hold dearly to our daily lives and what we think we can control, only to realize it’s actually the darkness we are clinging to.

But as we recognize the limits of our control and begin to hate our sin, Jesus means to teach us something incredible. That though we have such limited ability to control, we have an endless capacity for grace. We can come to Him with a renewed understanding of who we are in Christ and experience His limitless grace for us. We can control so precious little, but we can receive from Him so much in surrender.

We can know, as John recites in the opening of his Gospel, that “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5). Jesus reigns on the throne of glory right now and is in total control of everything. Just as He did when He allowed the events of Good Friday to unfold, Jesus controls the narrative of our lives. Hallelujah, what a Savior.

The Deep, Deep Love of Jesus

Neatice Warner — Fri, 25 Jul 2025 :00 -0500

One September afternoon after soccer practice, my five-year-old son, sitting beside me in the car, suddenly declared, “When I grow up, I am going to have a really big house!” “Oh really?” I responded, taken aback. “Okay—that will be great.” He continued on with his future plans, and finally I asked, “I wonder what I will be doing?” He looked at me as if surprised I would even question it, and said, “Well—you will live with me.” He was a child, and to him, a loving relationship meant continuing presence. He didn’t know the patterns and complexities of life on earth, good and bad, and he certainly hadn’t experienced rejection or loss or great sorrow. To him, you stay with the people you love and keep close to those who love you.

Jesus experienced life on earth; He understood all of its complexities and sorrows. And so the night before He died, gathered with His disciples, Jesus prayed aloud about His expectations and about His desires for those He loved. Judas was gone; these men remained, and He prayed in their hearing for Himself, for them, and for all who would follow Him in the future.

As His great sacrifice loomed before Him, looking “toward heaven,” Jesus humbly asked for renewal to His Father’s presence—to the glorious harmony of the Trinity, to divine experience of joyful peace, effortless rule, and eternal, life-giving love.

Jesus prayed next for those there with Him, who must have felt shocked, confused, and yet illumined by what they had already heard that evening. He had always protected them, had revealed the Father to them with teaching and with miracles; and they had “kept His word.” Did they understand, trust, or obey Him perfectly? No, but in the Father’s grace they believed in Him, the Son of God.

He asked His Father to protect them from the vicious schemes of Satan. Then He asked the Father to sanctify them—to set them apart for His purposes, as the candlestick of the temple was saved and separated for holy use. They must also be personally holy in their thoughts, words, and actions, which would happen, He said, through powerful truth—the truth of God’s Word. The message of salvation through Jesus and the salvation-life it would bring by His Spirit would make them holy—as the Father who loves them is holy. For this, Jesus said, He sanctified Himself—set Himself apart as a sin-offering, for His people, whom He loved.

And then Jesus added that His prayers were not for these 11 disciples only, but for all who would believe in Him through their message. Jesus’ glorious prayer is for us too, though we are often faithless, fearful, neglectful, and disobedient.

Do you desire greater connection and community? Anticipating His own heavenly reunion, Jesus prayed for us to be united together, even as God the Trinity is unified. This is the love of Jesus.

Have you felt isolated, rejected, or a failure in the complexities of relationships in the world? “Father,” our Lord prayed, “I want those you have given Me to be with Me where I am, and to see My glory…” This is no naïve hope or childish whim. This is love that welcomes you into His presence and shares with you His life.

“O the deep, deep love of Jesus,
Tis a heaven of heavens to me
   And it lifts me up to glory,
   For it lifts me up to Thee.”
—Samuel Trevor Francis

Take Heart

Reynolds Walker — Fri, 18 Jul 2025 :00 -0500

The Lord wants to dwell with us, with you. This is the story He has revealed in Scripture and history. From the Garden, through the wilderness the Israelites traveled to Pentecost, and time and time again the Lord has not only promised but proved His desire to dwell with His people. His dwelling, His presence, is not that of some distant, remote bystander but that of an intimate, abiding Friend.

As the Lord prepared the disciples for His departure, He gave them words not of despair, but of hope. Christ assures His followers that even in His physical absence, they are not abandoned, as He was on their behalf and ours. While this passage makes clear the weight of coming suffering, woven throughout is a thread of profound encouragement: God will dwell with His people.

“It is to your advantage that I go away” (v.7). At first, this seems counterintuitive. How could it be good for the disciples—for us—that Christ would go? Because in His going, He would send “the Helper,” the Holy Spirit. The Spirit of truth would not merely walk beside them, as Jesus had, but would dwell within them (John 14:17). This is not God at a distance, but God making His home in the hearts of His people. What a beautiful reality!

We rightly treasure the doctrine of Union with Christ. Through the Spirit, we are united to Jesus, not metaphorically, but truly. The same Spirit who raised Christ from the dead now lives in us (Romans 8:11). This is the Lord’s revealed desire—to dwell with His people. From the Garden (Genesis 3:8), to the tabernacle (Exodus 25:8), to the Word becoming flesh and dwelling among us (John 1:14), and finally to Pentecost and the indwelling of the Spirit, Scripture reveals a God who refuses to be far from His children.

Jesus declares: “I have said these things to you, that in Me you may have peace.” This is not worldly peace—fragile and fleeting—but divine peace, rooted in the eternal presence of God. “In the world you will have tribulation,” He warns. And don’t we feel it? The pain of betrayal, the fear of loss, the weariness and shame of addiction, or the mundanity of our labor. Yet His next words ring louder than our fears: “Take heart; I have overcome the world.” Christ promises, and has assured, our Hope; Himself.

Our hope is not that we will escape the brokenness of this life, but that Christ has already conquered it—and that He now dwells with us in the middle of it. We are not left as orphans. We are filled with His Spirit, sustained by the Son, and held by the Father.

So, take heart. You may feel weak, afflicted by the world, the flesh, or the devil, but you are not alone. The Spirit of Christ dwells in you. God’s desire was never merely to be near you—but to live in you. And He has done it; it is finished. Praise be to God!

Lord Jesus, thank You for sending Your Spirit to dwell in us. Even in the midst of tribulation, grant us the peace that only comes from knowing and abiding with You. You have overcome the world. Help us to live each day aware of Your presence, comforted by Your truth, and strengthened by Your love. Amen.

Our Most Trusted Counselor

Ann Higginbottom — Fri, 11 Jul 2025 :00 -0500

There is a specific spot in my kitchen, next to the sink, where the morning sunlight beams through the window every dawn. I’m scurrying around the kitchen, making breakfast, packing lunches, and a direct ray of light catches my attention. Every single time, it stops me in my tracks, and I turn towards the window. With my face lifted high and my heart swelling, I quietly exhale. I think of my mom, who’s with the Lord, and I joyfully say, “Lord Jesus, good morning!” I linger as long as I can, eyes closed and basking in the glow. That little window spot is a thin place for me. It’s like a glimpse of Home.

Since Mom’s homegoing four and a half years ago, I think about heaven and life with Jesus every day. Some days I dwell on the thoughts, and other days they are more fleeting. Yet without fail, thoughts of eternal life infiltrate my mind and heart. This has not always been the case for me. But with time, age, life experience, and a growing awareness of the brokenness of this world, sometimes…it is all I can think about. Home – with Jesus. When every tear shall be wiped away and everything broken made whole. Home.

Until the Lord returns or calls us Home, we find ourselves here, in a world that He created in perfect order, and yet, a world ravaged by sin and brokenness. Disease and broken relationships mark our families. Tragedy and unthinkable sadness mar our communities. We are left with more questions than answers, and if left to our own devices and resources, we easily descend into despair. In our flesh we cry out: “Where are you, God? Why?” For me, the piercing ray of light through the kitchen window bellows HIS response: “WITH. I am WITH you.” Our most trusted Counselor is not far off or aloof: He is WITH us. In Psalm 16:7-8 David blesses the Lord and declares his confidence: “I bless the LORD who gives me counsel; in the night also my heart instructs me. I have set the LORD always before me; because He is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.”

This past week, our community has been jolted by tragedy. Families and communities are devastated. In these moments, when we’re battling disbelief and even doubt, where do we run? In the middle of the night, when the darkness is palpable and overwhelming, we cry, “Where are You, Lord? Why? How?” But the light pierces through our despair and shouts: “WITH. I am with you.” David was a man acquainted with tragedy and despair, yet even in the valley of the shadow of death, David says that he will fear no evil. Why? Because his Shepherd is with him (Psalm 23:4). Who can walk calmly through such a valley? Only people who know they are not alone, who know they are held, protected, and not abandoned by a most trusted Counselor.

The light shines in the darkness. Our future hope of life is with the saints who have gone before us and with our enthroned King…this reality should invade our present lives. Through every storm this side of heaven, we are not alone. As those who know Christ as our only refuge, how can we live today in light of the end? Friends, the grief and sadness we feel are not the end of the story. This is not our home! How can we not run into the streets and hold out this unshakeable truth to our broken community? He is WITH us. The ache and grief are real, but our confidence in Jesus and our hope of heaven are real, too. Only in Christ can such an extreme tension exist. We can run to our brothers and sisters and declare what we know. We can throw our arms around those who grieve, whether they know our hope in Jesus or not. Even in our darkest hours, we can hold out the light of Christ because He is with us.

Today, we’re living on our toes, straining to see with our eyes a light breaking on the horizon. We’re desperately hoping for a ray of light to shatter through the window and remind us that He is near, that we have not been abandoned, that He is coming again. Come, Lord Jesus. Let Your nearness be our strength. Most trusted Counselor, comfort Your people with the sure reality that You are with us. Friends, our hope is certain. Stand on your tiptoes with your eyes towards the horizon. “Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD” (Psalm 27:14).

Abide or Die

Amy Tassos — Fri, 04 Jul 2025 :00 -0500

Abide or Die! Sounds dramatic, doesn’t it? Yet, it is exactly what Jesus was teaching His disciples. He told them, and by extension us, “apart from Me you can do nothing”. But what exactly does it mean to abide?

In our passage, Jesus makes this one statement that seems out of place, “Already you are clean because of the word I have spoken to you. Abide in Me and I in you.” What does being clean have to do with His chosen imagery of the vine and branches? Jesus is referencing the previous picture He gave them in the washing of their feet. The only way the disciples can abide in Him is if He first washes them clean. It is no different for us. If we do not see that we are dead men and women, walking in our unrighteousness (and self-righteousness), and if we cannot accept the free gift from God who sent His Son to die in our place, making us clean by His blood; we are not His. If we do not belong to God, we belong to Satan. There is no middle ground. Thinking we belong to ourselves is one of Satan’s greatest tricks of keeping us from turning to God. Yet, if we turn to God, desiring to be covered by the blood of Jesus alone which makes us clean, we are His; and if we are His, we will abide.

Abiding is a desire and a will that God produces in those who belong to Him, just as He did with many saints who came before us. By His grace directed toward us, His children, He will put in our lives whatever will bring us to the end of our own abilities, our own strength, our own limits of knowledge and understanding, so that we will turn and depend on Him alone. Then, we hold onto Him for life and sustenance, and He holds onto us so we cannot fall away and die.

Moses knew his desperate need of God in the desert when the Israelites turned against God, crafting something they could see to worship. Moses pleaded, “If your Presence will not go with me, do not bring us up from here.” (Exodus 33:15)

Joshua, who was at Moses’ side from the time of his youth, had seen the consequences of many who were faithful to the Lord and those who were not. He reminded the Israelites before his death, “but you shall cling to the LORD your God just as you have done to this day. For the LORD has driven out before you great and strong nations. And as for you, no man has been able to stand before you to this day. One man of you puts to flight a thousand, since it is the LORD your God who fights for you, just as He promised you. Be very careful, therefore, to love the LORD your God.” (Joshua 23:8-11)

Ruth, knowing there was life only with Naomi’s God, pleaded to go with Naomi back to Israel, “Do not urge me to leave you or to return from following you. For where you go I will go, and where you lodge I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God my God.” (Ruth 1:16)

We find Elijah, after courageously battling the prophets of Baal, terrified and hiding in a cave. He tells the Lord, “I have been very jealous for the LORD, the God of hosts. For the people of Israel have forsaken Your covenant, thrown down Your altars, and killed Your prophets with the sword, and I, even I only, am left, and they seek my life, to take it away.” (1 Kings 19:14)

King David, after sinning greatly against God and his fellow man cries out to the only One in whom he can take refuge,

“Create in me a clean heart, O God,
    and renew a right spirit within me.
Cast me not away from Your presence,
    and take not Your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of Your salvation,
    and uphold me with a willing spirit.” Psalm 51:10-12

The words of Peter also teach us what it means to abide. After Jesus proclaimed, “Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, you do not have life in yourselves,” many who could not understand turned away. Peter, however, replied, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, 69 and we have believed, and have come to know, that You are the Holy One of God.” John 6:68-69

Each of these sinners turned saints -- Moses, Joshua, Ruth, Elijah, David and Peter -- knew their utter dependence and need of Jesus. They knew what it was to abide in Him, for without Him they could do nothing.

If the men and women who came before us, human as we are, yet written into Scripture, were brought to the end of themselves so that they knew their need and found their strength and joy in the Lord alone, why do we want to run from Our Father’s work in us? What if instead of running for anything earthly that provides comfort to us, we hold our hands open to the Lord saying, “Help, please! This is beyond me. I need You.”

If the Lord does not enable us by His Spirit living in us who believe, we cannot choose to abide. Jesus used the example of a vine and branches. I understand His analogy because I have a wonderful fig tree, and if I can beat the birds and squirrels to the fruit, I get to enjoy sweet figs the size of my palm! I watch my tree carefully making sure it is not obscured from the sun and gets adequate water. I also watch for suckers. These are the small shoots that pop out from the ground or from lower down on an existing branch. Though they are green and eager, they are too small to produce figs, and they steal the nutrients from the fruit producing portion of the tree. When I cut them off, the fruiting branches begin to thrive and the fruit increases. The suckers do not choose their position on the tree any more than the fruiting branches, yet some produce fruit while the others are merely present.

Likewise, we do not choose God; He chooses us, sustains us, and causes us to yield the fruits of His Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23). When we realize this, we gratefully submit to the work He is doing in us, and we lean into Him all the more. We abide.

Abide or die. There really is no third way.

The Spirit and the Law

Nathan Davy — Fri, 27 Jun 2025 :00 -0500

As modern evangelicals, we often think of law and grace as opposites. After all, Paul wrote in Romans 6, “You are not under law but under grace,” and in Galatians 5, “But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law.” We think that the whole meaning of the law is guilt, whereas in Christ, we are free from sin and shame. And it’s absolutely true that Paul wrote in Romans 8, “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death.”

How then, do we account for all of John’s writing about the necessity of obedience? “Whoever has My commandments and keeps them, he it is who loves Me.” “If you love Me, you will keep My commandments.” “If anyone loves Me, he will keep My word.” Obedience is clearly required. But what does obedience mean in the context of grace? I believe that Jesus makes it clear what obedience means when He proceeds to the promised coming of the Holy Spirit.

Jesus calls the Holy Spirit by the word “parakletos” (in the original Greek of the New Testament) several times over the course of the next two chapters of John. This word, translated “Helper” in the ESV and in other translations rendered as “Advocate” (NIV) or “Comforter” (KJV), only occurs in John’s writings: in the Gospel of John four times, referring to the Holy Spirit, and once in his first epistle, “But if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous” (1 John 2:1), referring to Jesus. In fact, the uniqueness of this word has led many Christian traditions to refer to the Holy Spirit as “The Paraclete.” The word means “one who is called alongside” and seems to have been a term for a legal assistant – something like a defense attorney. (It’s interesting to note that Satan is sometimes called “the accuser” – see Revelation 12:10). We still use the word advocate in this way. In fact, the word advocate comes from the Latin word that has the same meaning as “parakletos” (called alongside). In this sense both Jesus (1 John 2:1) and the Holy Spirit go to the Father as our advocates. “Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words” (Romans 8:26). One connection between the Spirit and obedience then is that when we fail in obedience, the Holy Spirit, along with Christ, advocates for us, intercedes for, and strengthens us (one of the original meanings of the word “comfort”!).

But there is another connection between the Holy Spirit and obedience, at a deeper level. In Ezekiel 36, the Lord is speaking by the Holy Spirit to the prophet Ezekiel, telling him to say to the people of Israel, “And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put My Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in My statutes and be careful to obey My rules” (Ezekiel 36:26-27). This is very similar to what Jesus said in John 14! Here we see that new life through the Holy Spirit means that obedience is possible. If the law is our accuser, and we are freed from sin by Christ, then through the Spirit we have God’s Word living within us. God’s Word does not condemn us; in the new covenant, we have His Word within us. Hebrews 10:15-16 says the same thing, quoting Jeremiah 31:33:

“And the Holy Spirit also bears witness to us; for after saying,
‘This is the covenant that I will make with them
    after those days, declares the Lord:
I will put My laws on their hearts,
    and write them on their minds.’ ”

I believe that this is what Paul is saying in Galatians 5 as well, “But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh…But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law…Now the works of the flesh are evident: sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality...But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.” We are in the Spirit; the Spirit is in us. We walk by the Spirit and so do not do the works of the flesh, but bear the fruit of the Spirit in life.

Law and grace are not opposites. We are no longer under the law, but now to live a life of obedience means that through grace we have the laws of God written on our hearts by the Holy Spirit, and the Word of God living through us, bearing the fruit of the Spirit.

I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life

Leslie Newman — Fri, 20 Jun 2025 :00 -0500

I love maps. I love exploring a new city or a hiking trail with a map. When my son went camping, he would take a picture of a map and send it to me so I would know his route. This was our early version of Find My Friends. Now I use “Waze” almost every day. I love knowing where I am and where I’m going.

Often, we want a map for other aspects of life: relationships, decisions, family, work, etc. Throughout life, we have times when we feel lost or confused. We wish someone would just point the way to take or what decisions to make. Am I doing the right thing? What happens if I go a certain way?

In the Bible, life is often referred to as a journey. Our way is illuminated by God’s promises to guide us as we lean on Him and His ways. As we follow Him, He will guide us. However, Jesus goes much deeper than direction for our lives or help in making decisions when He called Himself The Way, The Truth, and The Life in John 14:6.

He was explaining to His disciples that He was leaving and going somewhere they couldn’t go with Him. This confused and troubled them. Jesus told them not to be troubled but to trust Him. He told them He was going to prepare the way for them. But this confused them more. Where was He going? Why did He need to prepare a place? What was that place? Jesus was on His way to the cross, where He would be The Way for us to live and dwell with God the Father, to have a relationship with Him that was not possible apart from Jesus. On the cross, He took the punishment that our sin deserved and accomplished salvation for us. He was going to the cross to die, and He rose again to be The Way to the Father.

He is The Truth – but not just a conceptual, mental truth. Theologian Sinclair Ferguson explains that this is “the reality of life we experience when we are united to Him”. The truth of the historical events of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection accomplishes significant and magnificent things!

At the beginning of creation, after Adam and Eve sinned and were put out of the Garden of Eden, God set angels and a flaming sword to guard the way to the tree of life. The way to life was blocked because of sin (see Genesis 3:24). Apart from a substitutionary sacrifice, the way stayed blocked. Hebrews 10:19-20 explains that the way to God, the way to life, is no longer blocked. Jesus Himself is the new and living way because of His sacrifice for us. We can come to the Father through Jesus.

Let’s help others find their way. Let’s show them who to follow - Jesus, The Way, The Truth, and The Life.

Just As I Have Loved You

Riley Mitchell — Fri, 13 Jun 2025 :00 -0500

Perhaps the most attractive part of this passage is Jesus’ “new commandment... that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another” (v. 34-35). Love. That is exactly what we want to hear, but what does that love look like, and how is it a new commandment? What makes this commandment new is not that we are to love one another, which God repeatedly commands (Leviticus 19:18, 34). Neither is it new because the love it commands is modeled after God’s love for us, since God’s character is always the basis of His commands (also Leviticus 19:18, 34). What makes this commandment new is that Jesus is about to give a new, greater, ultimate revelation of God’s love: “just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another.” The disciples have not seen it yet, that “God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us... while we were enemies” (Romans 5:8, 10). Though they have not yet seen it, we can see a few of its accents in this passage, as Jesus prepares to die for His enemies.

This commandment is sandwiched between two foretold betrayals, the first Judas (v. 21–30) and the second Peter (v. 36–38). The contrast between Judas and Peter is very interesting. We could spend time discussing what this tells us about God’s election––right before this, after washing the disciples’ feet, Jesus says, “I know whom I have chosen” (v.17), and elsewhere He says, “I know My own” (10:14) and “you did not choose Me, but I chose you” (15:16)––or we could discuss the difference between Judas and Peter––that Peter later repented because Jesus prayed for him that his faith would not fail (Luke 22:32), but Jesus did not pray for Judas––but I want to focus on what this passage tells us about God’s love for His enemies, both Judas and Peter. Indeed, at the moment, they are both His enemies.

So how did Jesus love His enemies? Again, His command to love one another in the same way that He loved us is sandwiched between two foretold betrayals by two of His best friends. And how Jesus loved them! He washed both of their feet (v. 12); He healed their friends and family (11:43; Matthew 8:14); He stilled seas for them (6:21); and for years He taught them about the Kingdom and salvation, knowing they would not understand (13:7) until He sent them His Spirit to teach them (14:25–26), except for Judas. There has never been a more patient Teacher. What’s more is now He is going to lay down His life for them because they are sinners, but they can’t even admit it. He is going to die for a man, Peter, not Judas, who He knows is going to abandon Him and deny Him in front of a lowly servant girl (the least intimidating person in the entire Roman Empire!). Jesus looks him in the eye and tells him these things, and still Peter says, “I will lay down my life for You” (v. 37). Jesus had arrogant and fickle friends. But “having loved His own who were in the world, He loved them to the end” (v. 1). Later, after the betrayal and before His death, Jesus would look Peter in the eye again, causing him to weep and repent (Luke 22:61–62). When Jesus rose from the dead, He held no grudges. He did not tell Mary to go tell His betrayers, but “go to My brothers” (20:17). He made His enemies His brothers. There has never been a more gracious Savior. “Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ” (Romans 5:1).

So Jesus loved His enemies, and He tells us to love one another, “just as I have loved you.” My Greek professor in seminary once pointed out to me that many popular stories are said to have a sort of “Christ figure,” someone who gives their life for others. Most of the time, the “Christ figure” dies for his friends or family. But that is not what Christ did. Jesus did not die for friends and family; He died for enemies to make them friends and family. “God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). How are we ever to imitate this love? We can start by understanding it. Jesus died for us, His arrogant and fickle enemies. When you are wronged, ignored, or belittled, and you begin to harbor resentment towards someone, remember “the great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses” (Ephesians 2:4–5). What did you do to deserve such love, and yet where would you be without it? If it was freely given to you, how can you withhold it from others? Only when we understand “the immeasurable riches of His grace and kindness toward us in Christ Jesus” (Ephesians 2:7) can we begin to truly love one another. Only then can you begin to “put away falsehood” and “speak the truth,” to “to share with anyone in need. [To] let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up... [and] be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you. Therefore, be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave Himself for us” (Ephesians 4:25, 28–29, 32–5:2).

Washing His Disciples’ Feet

Kari Stainback — Fri, 06 Jun 2025 :00 -0500

The Apostle John is the only one of the Gospel writers to include the story of Jesus washing His disciples' feet on the eve of His crucifixion. How grateful I am for this intimate picture of Jesus humbling Himself to bend down and wash twelve pairs of dusty feet and then to wipe them dry. As the passage tells us, Jesus, having loved His own, loved them to the end.

Jesus and His disciples had just finished a wonderful Passover meal and were leaning back, enjoying one another’s company. Jesus knew that in a few short hours, Judas would betray Him, Peter would deny Him, and all of the others except John would desert Him at the time of His greatest need. Yet Jesus, knowing His hour had come, gave them an object lesson they could not then understand.

To see their Lord and Teacher condescend to wash one another’s feet must have been shocking. I imagine all side conversations stopped and that no one uttered a word as Jesus scrubbed each pair of dirty toes and cracked heels. It is likely that the only sound heard in that room was that of a basin scooting across the floor, water sloshing and dripping, and feet being dried on muslin cloth, that is, until Peter’s turn came. Impetuous Peter told Jesus, “You shall never wash my feet.” Jesus answered him, “If I do not wash you, you have no share with Me”. Peter lined up quickly and responded to Jesus by asking Him to wash all of him.

The act of Jesus washing the feet of the disciples pointed to another washing …. being cleansed not by water in a basin, but by the blood of Jesus Himself, the Lamb of God, who was to be sacrificed the very next day. As Jesus promised, the disciples would later understand how necessary this washing was. To be washed by the blood of the Lamb was the only way to be cleansed of all of sin’s consequences forever. And so it is with each one of us! It is necessary for all who believe in Jesus to be washed by His blood shed for us on the cross … the blood of the “Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” There is no other way to be saved.

This humble and loving act by our Lord, which was something that the disciples had not done for one another, was also intended to be an example of serving others rather than being served. Jesus had spoken of sacrificial service before, when the mother of James and John asked that her sons be given prestigious positions in the Kingdom she thought was coming. Jesus told her that “the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.” Washing their feet was a picture lesson of serving others, and Jesus told His disciples to follow His example. So today, we who are Jesus’ disciples must also ask ourselves, “How do we apply this passage to our lives?” How should we live our lives in view of Christ Jesus’ example of humble, self-sacrificing love? I don’t know about you, but I find this a difficult passage to integrate into my everyday life.

I was recently blessed with the gift of this kind of Christlike love at work in our church family. A woman in our church, whom I did not know well, attended my Mom’s memorial service 50 miles away and later took me to dinner as a further act of kindness. Her generosity of time and spirit truly ministered to me, so I asked, “What made you come?” She told me that on the morning of Mom’s service, she was listening to Robby Higginbottom pray during the Pastoral Prayer, during which he offered a prayer for my family as we were going to celebrate Mom’s life that Sunday afternoon. This was the first time she had heard that Mom had gone home to be with Jesus. She immediately pulled out her phone, looked up the time and place of the service, and said, “Lord, now I know why you had me wear a black dress to church today.” The Holy Spirit compelled this dear woman to give up her Sunday afternoon to travel an hour to attend the memorial service of a woman she didn’t know and to follow it up with a sweet card and a delicious dinner for me. Who does such a self-sacrificing and loving thing? People filled with the love of Christ who are ready and willing to lay down their lives for the good of His people.

My friend loved me so well that I will never forget her beautiful acts of kindness. I am convicted of my own sinful bent toward seeking my own comfort and the pleasure of being in control of my own schedule. Her loving example shows me what Christ’s washing of the disciples’ feet meant. It is a demonstration of God’s transforming love that leads us to humbly love and serve others in sacrificial ways. The Apostle Paul said it so well:

Let each of you look not only to his own interest, but also to the interests of others. Have this mind among yourself, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who though He was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.
Philippians 2:4-8

The Light of Life

Chris Hatley — Fri, 30 May 2025 :00 -0500

We have an interesting relationship with light in our modern world. Thanks to the wonders of electricity and the convenience of streetlamps and flashlights, there are few places where we are actually forced to walk in darkness. Especially in the big city, we are surrounded by an abundance of light, and the lack of stars at night is evidence of this. Darkness still exists, yes, but it can be banished any moment by simply pulling out our phones. And so, in a way, we grow blind to the gift of illumination.

In the ancient world, however, light was far more elusive. Every sunset, darkness descended upon humanity. Save for candles, torchlight, and the glow of the moon, night was lived in relative darkness. “Not knowing where you are going” was a real problem when walking at night. There was no option to flip a switch and turn on the light. Thus, it is important to consider this ancient context when we hear Jesus say things like, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows Me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12).

In John 12, Jesus says, “Walk while you have the light, lest darkness overtake you. The one who walks in the darkness does not know where he is going. While you have the light, believe in the light, that you may become sons of light,” and later in that same chapter, “I have come into the world as light, so that whoever believes in Me may not remain in darkness.” Remember, this was spoken to a people who spent nearly half their lives in darkness. It was a radical idea that Jesus was bringing light into the world and that by following Him, His followers could become lights themselves. This was not simply a streetlight flickering on. This was saying that their relationship to darkness would never be the same.

In the 21st century, we’ve tried hard to chase away the darkness, but it persists all the same. One need not look long to see darkness still present in our own hearts. Despite the brightness of our world, much of humanity still wanders in spiritual darkness. And so, Jesus’ encouragement remains ever poignant. Walking in darkness, spiritual or otherwise, will have us aimless and at a loss. We need to cling to the light of life, so that we might, in turn, be light to others walking in darkness.

When we look to Jesus, we see the true light. When we look to Jesus, we see the One who sent Him. When we look to Jesus, the darkness starts to fade.

The Gospel in a Grain of Wheat

Nathan Davy — Fri, 23 May 2025 :00 -0500

“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”
John 12:24-25

These verses present the crux of the gospel. All four Gospel writers include the words of verse 25, and in Matthew and Luke, Jesus spoke those words on two separate occasions (Matthew 10:39, 16:25, Mark 8:35, Luke 9:24, 17:33). In Matthew 16:25, Mark 8:35, and Luke 9:24, the context is the same: Peter confesses that Jesus is the Christ, Jesus tells His disciples that He must suffer and die, and Jesus explains that to be glorified, He must first be humiliated. These three passages also recount the transfiguration immediately afterward.

Though the synoptic Gospels describe a different event, the same pattern overarches this account in the Gospel of John. In John, the crowds acclaim Christ as Messiah in His triumphal entry into Jerusalem, like Peter confessed Him in the synoptic Gospels. Then Jesus turns their ideas on their heads: “If anyone would come after Me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow Me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will save it” (Luke 9:23-24). “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life” (John 12:24-25). And following this, God the Father speaks from heaven, affirming that He will glorify His name on account of the work of Christ. This directly parallels the transfiguration, the only other time in the New Testament, along with Jesus’ baptism, when God speaks directly from heaven. That God chooses this moment to speak directly and audibly to Jesus, and those who were with Him at the time, emphasizes the significance of the words Jesus spoke. It also emphasizes the overall pattern in each instance: humiliation leads to exaltation. Jesus submitted to the baptism of John the Baptist, and God responded with a statement of pleasure in His Son. He told His disciples that He must die, and God again responded, “This is My Son, My Chosen One; listen to Him!” And again, Jesus spoke the words in the Gospel of John that we’re now examining, and God responds that He will glorify His name.

This is a familiar pattern to us – so familiar that it can lose some of its impact. We rehearse its application to Jesus’ life regularly, but for me, it’s easy to neglect its implications for our own lives. One of the common ways of understanding Jesus’ words is metaphorical. This is the application that may be most familiar to us: the attainment of heavenly glory requires the willingness to sacrifice earthly things. If we focus on earthly things, we will lose the heavenly things, but if we pursue heavenly things first, all the earthly things will take their rightful place. “Seek ye first the Kingdom of God, and His righteousness, and all these things will be added unto you” (Matthew 6:33). Taking the “grain of seed” metaphor – our desire for earthly things must die and be reborn, focused on heavenly things, in order to bear wholesome fruit. Another way of taking this passage is more literal – there are those whom Christ calls to die for the sake of the gospel. Most of us will likely not be called to martyrdom; however, the test of obedience in the big things is faithfulness in the small things. If we cannot lay down things of relative insignificance for the sake of obedience to Christ, how could we expect to lay down our lives?

Finally, there is another literal way of taking this passage. We are all going to die, every one of us. Our mortality rate is one hundred percent. In First Corinthians 15, Paul is writing about the resurrection of the dead (which evidently some of the Corinthians denied). He writes toward the end of the chapter, speaking of what the resurrection body will be like, “What you sow does not come to life unless it dies. And what you sow is not the body that is to be, but a bare kernel, perhaps of wheat or of some other grain” (1 Corinthians 15:36-37). Paul’s point is different than ours, but the principle is the same: to attain the resurrection, we first must die. In light of this, we must live in a way that does not cling to our lives as that which is most precious. If we want to grow a crop of wheat, the last thing we should do is to hoard all of our seed in a barn somewhere. We must cast it down into fertile soil, where it will yield an increase. So with our lives: we must cast them down, give them up, spend them, and yield them. When we have lived like that, we will be ready to die and to receive the fullness of resurrection life.

We Will Be Secure

Amy Tassos — Fri, 16 May 2025 :00 -0500

As I studied our passage, I noticed how John juxtaposed Mary, a true worshiper, and Judas, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Pondering the presence of evil at the table with our Lord, I remembered a terrible event in my childhood.

When I was in third grade, my family moved out to the edge of town where the neighbor’s cows and chickens would sometimes wander into our yard. This put us closer to the new hospital where my Dad worked, allowing him to get to the hospital quickly in an emergency. The closest elementary school was a public school where my sister and I attended for a couple of years. Public schools in Louisiana, at that time, allowed children to repeat grades long after they should have matriculated from elementary. On one unforgettable day, I was helping our teacher to clean up the classroom, and thus, was late to the lunchroom. I had to sit at the very end of the very last table, across from the one boy who, having been held back several times, was now about 13 years of age compared to my 9. Though terrified to sit near this older boy and his friends, I ate my lunch quickly and quietly, hoping to make it to recess before playtime was over. Pure evil is the only way I can describe what held this boy. He said things of a sexual nature to me that I did not understand, but I knew they were not good. I was unable to finish eating lunch. I exited quickly to surround myself with friends. This was one of my earliest memories of brushing up against evil in a way that made me feel shame. I felt dirty just for being in this boy’s presence and hearing the words he said to me. Why was I left unprotected? Why wasn’t anyone watching out for me?

Unlike my school memory, the prose of our passage sets a joyous scene. Mary is a model of what we all will be someday. Through the cacophony of people gathered at the table, our narrator zooms in. The scene takes on slow motion, and the noise of table talk is drowned out as we are drawn further into a deeply personal moment. Mary appears behind Jesus and pours a very expensive, very large, bottle of perfume over her Savior. Concluding with His feet, she catches the runoff with her hair. It is pure worship of the One she knows is Messiah, the One she knows has come for her, and the One who has brought her beloved brother back from the dead. For Mary, there is nothing else in life worthy of her attention. There should have been silence and awe all around as others joined in her worship of the Lord. Instead, Judas opens his mouth. A traitorous, thieving, self-seeking man doing Satan’s bidding, Judas attempts to shame Mary. Jesus stops him, “Leave her alone.”

I hate that Judas was there at the special dinner for our Lord – our Lord who was about to lay aside His power, placing Himself in the hands of monsters in order to rescue us from Satan’s clutches. Jesus went to the cross for us, for Judas, and for the boy in elementpcary school. If only they had eyes to see and receive Him, they would not spend eternity in hell, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.

The One who raised Lazarus, and then Himself, from the dead will also raise us. One day, we will have another dinner in honor of Jesus. The Bible calls it the Marriage Supper of the Lamb (Revelation 19:9). We will fall at His feet when we realize the evil He has rescued us from (even within ourselves). We will offer fragrant sacrifices of praise, and we will feast in a place where evil cannot enter, where pain and suffering do not exist, where shame is no more, and where we are secure (Revelation 21:27).

Lazarus, Come Out

Robby Higginbottom — Fri, 09 May 2025 :00 -0500

Have we considered the power of God’s voice? In the beginning, God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. What the Creator did on the first day becomes the pattern for the remainder of the week: God simply speaks, and by the power of His word creates the heavens and the earth. Much later David exclaims, “The voice of the LORD is powerful; the voice of the LORD is full of majesty” (Psalm 29:4). All of Scripture testifies to this truth, but few stories compare to the day when Jesus cried out with a loud voice, “LAZARUS, COME OUT!”—and the dead man came out (John 11:43). Our Lord Jesus raised Lazarus from real, physical death. He had been in the tomb long enough for his sister to worry about the smell (John 11:39). His heart had stopped beating. His blood had stopped pumping. His skin had grown cold. But then the words, “Lazarus, come out,” and everything changed. A heartbeat…a rising chest…blood began to flow…color returned…and Lazarus came out of the grave. He was still wearing the clothes that signified death, but not for long. Soon, he would see with his own eyes the One who raised him up. Soon they would share a meal together (John 12:1-2). Lazarus knew uniquely that Jesus is the Resurrection and the Life (John 11:25-26), and his story invites us to consider the power of God’s voice in our own lives.

Lazarus was physically dead, but God had other plans for His glory (John 11:4). The Bible says that we are spiritually dead in our sins, but God makes us alive together with Christ (Ephesians 2:1-5, Colossians 2:13). By grace we have been saved through faith (Ephesians 2:8). So every one of us who has been brought from death to life has experienced the death-defying power of Jesus Christ. There was a day—or a season—in which we heard Him cry with a loud voice, “COME OUT!” and we couldn’t help but respond to His irresistible grace. We came out of death into life, out of sin into holiness, out of despair into hope, and out of loneliness into love. We may still be wearing some of the clothes that signify death, but Jesus gives the command to unbind us and let us go. He replaces our grave clothes with His own robe of righteousness (2 Corinthians 5:21). Have we ever imagined what life was like for Lazarus in the days and weeks after Jesus raised him up? Truly, he was a dead man walking for all the world to see! Do we realize that in Christ our own story is no less staggering? God “raised us up with Him and seated us with Him in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 2:6). We are men and women, once dead, now alive in Jesus Christ. “The voice of the LORD is powerful.” Have we heard it? Do we hear it today? How is the Lord calling us to come out of death and walk in the power of His resurrection life?

Why Are You Cast Down?

Sam Leopold — Fri, 02 May 2025 :00 -0500

When I think about attempting to be a good father, many things come to mind: loving my children unconditionally, praying for them, teaching them and guiding them through life, providing for them, and enjoying life with them. If I am honest, teaching them to weep, or a word we sometimes use from the Bible, lament, is usually not high on my list. I actually think that my wife and I spend a lot of energy doing our best to make sure our kids don’t have to lament. So, how do we respond, both as parents and as individuals, when grief and sorrow find us out?

How do we respond when our kids feel lonely and just want a friend? How do we respond when they don’t get into the school we want them to get into? How do we train our children to respond to injustices they encounter, whether experienced by them or perhaps witnessed by them? How do we respond when our children experience grief for the first time?

Part of living in a fallen world and being called to be God’s people through Christ is learning to live with weeping and lament. There are two Greek words for weeping that describe some of Jesus’ weeping as a human in the gospels. The first one shows up in Luke 19:41, klaiō from our Palm Sunday study, and is a loud wailing and weeping. The second one that comes from John 11, dakruō, is a more silent, internal weeping. When we think about our natural response to sin, brokenness, grief, loss, or injustice, Jesus’ forms of lament in being fully human are meant to encourage us to enter in ourselves. It doesn’t matter what form our lament takes: silent, reflective, expressive, or overwhelming. We were meant to be a people who lament.

Psalm 42 which is quoted above, is a Psalm of Lament. Did you know the Hebrews had a whole collection of Psalms, prayers and songs, that were meant to help God’s people lament? In Psalm 42 we see a range of images that speak of an unnamed sorrow: tears being our food, tears being our accuser, memories of better times, souls being cast down, being overtaken by waves and water, and deadly wound in my bones.

Part of the triumph of being called out as God’s people in Christ is realizing that our triumph in Christ also gives us the security to lament. We can be sad and struck down by the personal trials and bitter providences the Lord lays before us, because we know our future is secure with Christ. We can be present and cast down by the injustices we see in our world around us, those deep, hard questions about the “why?”, because we know God is going to make all things right in the end.

But Jesus’ example of weeping and showing us His humanity is not just an example for us. His lamenting and His weeping are the things that transform us into a hope-filled lamenting people. Jesus lamented because of compassion for His people. He also lamented because His coming to Earth as a human and His descending into hell as the sacrifice for our sin caused Jesus great pain. He was forsaken by God the Father. Our lamenting is real, and God sees it. But Jesus’ lamenting has eternal consequences for us: it transforms us into a hope-filled lamenting people. In this Easter season, we remember that His resurrection secures and proves to our souls that no matter what we are going through, no matter what injustice we are experiencing, we “shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God.”

The Resurrection Changes Everything

Chris Hatley — Fri, 25 Apr 2025 :00 -0500

What is our reaction to the resurrection of Jesus? Well, if we are honest, many of us have grown numb to the reality of our risen Christ. Easter can quickly become more of a yearly reminder than a daily encouragement. Yes, our theology might assure us the tomb remains empty, but that doesn’t mean we won’t find ourselves dwelling too long in that same tomb. We, like the women in Matthew 28, may approach the tomb expecting Jesus, but in finding Him alive, we rarely leave running “with fear and great joy.” Rushing to tell others that our Savior is alive is not normally our first instinct.

However, in truth, “resurrection excitement” is our fuel for Christian living. Everything, from sanctification to evangelism, should flow from the fountain of the resurrection. Because Jesus is alive, we have union with an eternally interceding advocate. Because Jesus is alive, our hope for the future is not in stale rules or behavioral change, but in a true friend, walking and breathing in the presence of the Father.

The resurrection ought to lead us to mission. This is why, after His resurrection but before His ascension, Jesus empowers His followers with the words of Matthew 28:18-20. The Great Commission, often quoted to empower Christian mission, cannot be rightly understood apart from the empty tomb. Christ’s authority in heaven and earth is legitimized because He was raised to new life. Alive now in the presence of the Father, Jesus bridges heaven and earth for us. This is the resurrection power that prompts Jesus to “deputize” us in His redemptive work. Going out, running with joy like the women at the tomb, to tell others about the Gospel. It is not a dead Christ in whose name we baptize, but a risen one. This evangelism and discipleship will not be done alone. This resurrected Jesus promises, “I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

So, moving out from Easter, let us keep the resurrection close to heart. Let it be what moves us to fulfill the great commission. Let it be what fills us with joy and prompts us to follow. The resurrection truly changes everything.

What Are You Assuming?

Amy Tassos — Fri, 18 Apr 2025 :00 -0500

My garden is in full, extravagant, overwhelming bloom. I did not cause these plants to grow. I only planted them. I see the majesty of their Maker in their coming to life. I am stunned at His generosity and overwhelmed by God’s grace. The Maker and Sustainer of Heaven and Earth has condescended to me in this bounty as He also did for those living in Palestine more than 2,000 years ago. This is the One the throngs should have seen as He rode into Jerusalem.

They should have recognized their Maker is the only One who can raise people from the dead, calm storms, and give sight to the blind (Luke 7:15, 8:24, 8:54, 18:42). Yet, as if to conceal Himself further, Jesus allows the ridiculous to unfold. His supporters think He is coming to take Jerusalem by force (Luke 22:3, 38), but the conquering King lumbers in on a baby donkey! We do not know how tall Jesus was, but I think we can say with near certainty that His feet were close to the ground. Did He do this only to fulfill prophecy (Zechariah 9:9)? Perhaps He was enacting another parable -- another word picture to say, “My Kingdom is an upside-down Kingdom. Do you understand yet?”

Though Jesus allowed Himself to be carried along by the throng, He knew their hearts were only hungry for a reversal of power over the Romans. His signs had proved to them that He was the One who could take back their land, but they were missing Him for who He really was and what He had come to do. The Lord of all came to rescue, by His own death, those who recognize they are sinners and put their faith in Him. Jesus came to save humanity from something far worse than Roman occupation -- He came to save us from eternity in hell.

Jesus’s entry into Jerusalem begins in chapter 9, and for ten chapters, we observe Him healing the sick, admonishing the Pharisees, and turning the world’s values on their heads. Using parable after parable, Jesus illustrated for His disciples that His is a Kingdom where the first is last and the last first, where one must leave everything to gain so much more, where what is inside a person matters more than what is on the outside, and where trusting in what they cannot see holds more weight than what they can. He warned them THREE times what would happen to Him in Jerusalem. Still, Luke 18:34 tells us, “They understood none of these things. This saying was hidden from them, and they did not grasp what was said.” They were making assumptions, just as we do.

Jesus is coming again. Many of us think we know how it is going to happen, or we’ve read someone else who is certain they know how it will happen. Jesus gives inklings of what the day of His coming will be like (Luke 17, 21, Matthew 24, Mark 13). The Jews, especially those who had studied the Scriptures, thought they knew what Messiah’s coming would look like even after Jesus told them, “The Kingdom of God is not coming in ways that can be observed (Luke 17:20).”

We can pull the self-righteous card that 2,000 years of hindsight affords us and pretend we would have seen Jesus at the Triumphal Entry for who He was, or we can humbly approach the second coming with a reverence that says we would have been as blind as the disciples. We can admit that we don’t know for sure what Christ’s second coming will actually look like. We certainly don’t know when it will occur. But no matter what your assumptions and expectations are, will you be ready? If He comes today, are you ready to leave it all behind to go with Him? Do you trust the One who left Heaven to save you?

Life with the Good Shepherd

Ann Higginbottom — Fri, 11 Apr 2025 :00 -0500

Growing up, my family and I spent a lot of time in East Texas. For generations, the ranch has been a part of our family’s story – dating back to my great-grandfather building the original ranch house settled in the pastures of Saltillo, Texas. But our history dates back even further than that to when my grandfather was born in a one-room farmhouse during the Great Depression. No one knew the country like my grandfather.

As a little girl from the city, I remember how different nighttime felt in the country. The glow of city lights and the noise of cars and sirens fell quickly away – and a stillness that you could tangibly feel settled in. The sounds were different – the lack of sound, the stillness, was almost deafening. The ranch house was about a two-minute walk from the chicken coop just down the road. Every night, it was someone’s brave task to take that walk and lock the chickens up for the night. A daunting duty in the dark. I could run…but what if something was running faster? I could tiptoe…but what if that was the biggest mistake? Everything is terrifying, and nothing is safe when you are all alone in the dark. It is the height of vulnerability.

But what if I wasn’t alone? What if the one who knew the country roads the best and who had no fear of what could come was by my side? My grandfather knew each sound of the country like the next note of a beloved hymn. He wasn’t startled by a scuffle near his foot or a stirring in the bush. And in his confident presence, I found courage. I didn’t need to run – I simply fell in step with his stride and held tight to his hand. I was walking in the night and through the wilderness with a steadfast peace that could only be explained by the company that was by my side.

In John 10, something is looming ahead in the near future for Jesus. The darkness of His suffering, crucifixion, and death has cast a long shadow, and yet Jesus is found at another feast and with another word for His followers, His sheep. To be compared to sheep may feel like a disgrace and offense. And in many regards, we are deserving of such a comparison. Yet it is also an identification of endearment. For the love and comprehensive care of his sheep is the shepherd’s greatest focus. There is a transcendent sweetness in belonging to the shepherd – for he is always near. A shepherd knows his sheep best and loves his sheep most.

And so, darkness will come, and yet the sheep are safe—for there is security with the shepherd. There may be darkness all around, but the sheep do not scatter, dart, or panic. The shepherd is near, and he knows the darkness better than anyone.

The study of Jesus as the Good Shepherd dramatically reorients my perspective on the darkness of this world and the valleys we will traverse. In Psalm 23, David declares that he “walks through the valley of the shadow of death” (Psalm 23:4). Who WALKS through darkness – and furthermore a valley shadowed with death? Walking sounds absurd. The only logical explanation is that the pilgrim must not be alone. He must have a companion who has infinite strength to defend, protect, provide, and shelter. The pilgrim can walk and not run. The sheep can lie down in green pastures and sleep. The little girl can bravely lock up the chickens for the night. For she is not alone.

The world can do its worst, but the sheep are secure. There is a sweetness and security in belonging to the Good Shepherd. May that identity anchor our souls as Holy Week approaches.

With Us in the Fold

Jessica Fikkert — Fri, 04 Apr 2025 :00 -0500

I’m a pretty anxious person. On any given day, if you were to read my thoughts, you’d find me worried about any number of things—money, safety, relationships, work, performance, appearance—the list goes on. Some of my fear and anxiety comes honestly—a mix of OCD and other family traits—but much of it boils down to a lifelong struggle to trust that God is my provider.

A week ago, I found myself anxious once again as I got ready to write this devotional. While I enjoy studying God’s Word and sharing what I’ve learned with other people, the process of writing fills me with anxiety—what if I don’t have anything to say? What if the words don’t come? What if I fail? As I read John 10 a week ago, I could feel the fear creep in as I read the passage and wondered what to write about, turning the passage over and over in my head as I was drifting off to sleep. But the next day, as I read a commentary on the passage, God reminded me once again that He is my provider and Good Shepherd.

In his commentary on John¹, Colin Kruse helps explain to those of us who aren’t familiar with the first-century world what Jesus means when He says that He is the gate (or door) for the sheep (John 10:7). What Jesus has in mind here is a shepherd bringing his sheep into the countryside to graze. Rather than going back to the village for the night, sometimes the shepherd and sheep would stay in the countryside in a makeshift sheepfold made of stones, with thorns on the top to keep out prey. And because this was a makeshift fold, there was no gate. So, to keep the sheep safe and in the fold, the shepherd himself would lay in the opening as the gate. The shepherd was, quite literally, the gate for the sheep.

As I read this explanation, a picture immediately popped into my head of a father with his child. When a child is scared at night, what does a good father do? He lays down beside his child and says, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe with me.”

With this image, God reminded me of what the abundant life He promises looks like (John 10:10). Jesus the gate not only provides us with the only pathway to eternal life in the future—He also is the only way to abundant life in the here and now. Life in the Good Shepherd’s fold is life where He protects us and provides for our needs, where He leads and guides us, where He knows us by name—where He is with us. Life with our Good Shepherd is the life where we truly lack nothing (cf. Psalm 23).

The presence and provision of the Good Shepherd are the only things that will quell our fear and anxiety. If you are like me, you often run to hired hands instead to keep you safe, hired hands that will always fail. Yet our Good Shepherd will never fail. He is good. He is gentle. He is safe. He is with us in the fold. And I’m learning to ask Him to stay with me until I fall asleep.

***
End notes: 1. Colin G. Kruse, John, Tyndale New Testament Commentaries.

The Doorway

Maggie Wills — Fri, 28 Mar 2025 :00 -0500

My family watches Survivor faithfully. We enjoy the survivalist reality TV with even more fervor this season because my brother’s friend, Mitch is on the show. We tune in and cheer Mitch on in our family group chat. A few episodes ago, a conversation between Mitch and Survivor host Jeff Probst captured our attention¹. Jeff asked Mitch about how his tribe was faring, and Mitch responded slowly due to his speech impediment. Jeff asked, “Mitch, when you are struggling, do you want help from someone…or do you want us to let you finish when you’re ready to finish?” Mitch responded, “The hope is that everybody would hang in there for me and…give me the opportunity to finish my sentence. But I’m so thankful you asked me that because…people naturally want to help others but don’t feel comfortable asking that.” Both Jeff and Mitch showed levels of courage in this exchange. Jeff decided to ask how to help. Mitch let Jeff know he would like to be accommodated rather than interrupted.

I know from my experience with disability these conversations feel difficult. Knowing you need accommodation takes vulnerability. Asking how to accommodate someone can be uncomfortable. Chapter 9 of John’s Gospel explores human need and vulnerability. In this story of a man born blind and healed by Jesus, John puts several responses to human need on display. The disciples treat need as a learning exercise, the Pharisees ignore need, and the healed man knows need well. Ultimately, Jesus teaches them all that human need can open the doorway to the Gospel.

The Disciples: Need as Object Lesson

The story begins with a question from Jesus’ followers. Passing by a man born blind, they ask Jesus who sinned, this man or his parents, to cause his blindness. They want to learn the theology behind this man’s condition. Jesus tells them that this man’s blindness shows that God’s work needs to be done and prompts them to do this work with Him. Jesus refutes the disciples’ desire, even if for earnest knowledge-seeking, to use the blind man as a mere object lesson. He knows the full reality of the man’s struggle. He wants His disciples to see that the man needs help and that God can provide help. In God’s Kingdom, this blind man’s need does not represent a question that needs an answer. Instead, this man’s blindness will lead him to Jesus and show how God loves to help His people. And Jesus demonstrates God’s help by giving the man his sight.

The Pharisees: Need Ignored

The Pharisees ignore their need and think they lack nothing. Instead of wondering at the healing, the religious leaders stand firm in rejecting Jesus. This man’s healing poses a threat to them – an unknown. After interrogating the man, including questioning if his blindness ever existed, they conclude that both the man and the healer must be sinful. They cannot comprehend that God might work in a way they do not expect or own the limits of their knowledge. When Jesus heals the man, He reminds His followers and the religious leaders that God meets needs in unexpected ways through unexpected people². Because the miracle does not fit into their system, they condemn the healed man as a sinner and shun him from their place of worship.

The Man: Need as Daily Reality

After the Pharisees accuse his healer of being a sinner, the healed man says, “Whether He is a sinner I do not know. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see” (John 9:25). The man understands that Jesus responds to his need. He knows he lacks. His disability revealed this to him daily as he struggled to get by. But Jesus helps him, and he accepts this help as a gift. As the questions about his healing keep coming, he goes from calling Jesus “the man named Jesus” to “a prophet” and, finally, “Lord.” He recognizes that God helped him. Disability increases daily struggles. At times, it can also sharpen awareness of God’s gifts. In the end, the healed man falls at the feet of Jesus because, being well acquainted with severe needs, he knows his healing comes from an act of God.

Jesus: Need as the Doorway to Healing

Jesus says, “For judgment I came into this world, that those who do not see may see, and those who see may become blind” (John 9:39). Jesus declares that those who are lacking or in need might find restoration in Him. On the other hand, those who believe they already have everything they need will find it more difficult to receive Him. Dr. Kelly Kapic defines humility this way: knowledge that there is a great Creator Lord and that we are the finite creatures He made to live in fellowship with Him³. Recognizing needs allows Jesus an open door to meet those needs.

Jeff and Mitch’s conversation is remarkable because they candidly acknowledge Mitch’s needs and how to help. What responses do we have when we experience or see someone in need? Do we want to explain it? Ignore it? Jesus reminds us that recognizing our need helps us enter into a relationship with Him and with one another.

***

End notes:
1. Watch the exchange: “Survivor 48's Mitch Guerra has a deeply human moment in episode 2 talking about his speech impediment”, MSN.
2. Epps, B. Jason & Pettit, Paul, One Body, One Spirit: Disability and Community in the Church, 112
3. Kapic, Kelly, You’re Only Human, 103

The Truth Will Set You Free

Neatice Warner — Fri, 21 Mar 2025 :00 -0500

Spring break! Every student loves it! It’s a week with no papers due or exams to take. It’s a week of freedom—for sleeping in, hanging with friends, or a trip with the family. It’s a week to do whatever you want—freedom!

John 8:32 contains one of Jesus’ most popular quotes: “Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” That statement at the time, however, offended Jesus’ Jewish audience at the Feast of Tabernacles, because it implied they weren’t free, and they challenged Him. The interchange became one of the most impassioned debates between Jesus and Jewish people who were interested in His teaching but also proud of their heritage. That pride kept them from really hearing and receiving Jesus’ full statement: “If you abide in My Word, you are truly My disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free;” and then, “If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed” (John 8:32-36).

The people exclaimed that they were Abraham’s descendants and never slaves of anyone. Probably, they had not forgotten all the oppression they had suffered through the centuries. But they believed that, as the heirs of God’s covenant with Abraham (Genesis 12:1-3), they were a unique people and therefore “free.” They were God’s, and (they thought) they lived by His law.

But Jesus responded that they were Abraham’s children physically and ethnically only. Because they refused to believe and live by His truth— that He was God’s Son and the promised Savior—they were enslaved to sin like all other people. They were not children or even followers of Abraham. In their unbelief, they were, in fact, children of the devil. They refused both the truth that they were sinners and the truth that He was the only Savior. In the truth of Jesus and in the Person of Jesus alone was their salvation and freedom.

Jesus personalized truth. He said to His disciples, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life; no one comes to the Father except through Me” (John 14:6). Authentic, eternal life is to be found in believing the truth of Jesus, and by knowing Jesus and being known by Him. And in this relationship, created and enlivened by His Spirit, is freedom.

This freedom is real right now. We escape judgment for sin, because Jesus has taken it. We experience victory over specific sins, because Jesus overcame sin’s control, and because His Spirit within us gives us His strength. 2 Corinthians 3:17 says, “Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” Christian freedom is not just a spring break experience of “whatever we want,” but what God created us to be, in the image of His Son.

Because of union by faith in Jesus, we are free to resist temptation. We are free to be courageous when we face fear. Because of His Spirit, we are free to be kind when others are thoughtless and calm when pressed by circumstances. Because our Savior is with us, we are liberated to speak for Him to those who reject Him. We are free to serve Him with humility and wisdom. Because He redeemed us, we follow His light through the confusion of the world. He is the Truth who has set us free.

The Light of the World

Jack Bennington — Fri, 14 Mar 2025 :00 -0500

John tells us at the end of his Gospel that all he has included is for the purpose that “you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in His name” (John 20:31). We see this prominently on display in our passage from John 8 where Jesus speaks in the midst of the Feast of Booths, remembering God’s faithfulness to Israel in the wilderness, in the treasury of the temple (v.20). Whereas in chapter six, Jesus gives us the first of seven “I am” statements being “the bread of life,” and then in chapter seven Jesus calls the people to turn to Him and receive living water from Him alone. The division among the crowds listening follows this, including the chief priests and Pharisees. The question on some people’s minds was, “Is this man the Christ?”

Jesus responded by stating to the crowd, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows Me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” In this statement, Jesus was proclaiming that He was the one who protected and guided Israel all those years ago and that now the Jewish people were gathering at the temple to remember and celebrate. Jesus was claiming to be God. The Pharisees immediately responded to Him questioning this based on the fact that in the Hebrew judicial system, there must be two witnesses to verify something as truth (v.17). Darkness resided over the hearts of these Pharisees who failed to see that Jesus was God even after Jesus tells them in verse 18, “I am the one who bears witness about Myself, and the Father who sent Me bears witness about Me.” The Pharisees then questioned where His father was, to which Jesus replied in verse 19, “You know neither Me nor My Father. If you knew Me, you would know My Father also.”

When we are not walking in the light of Christ, everything is much more difficult. I grew up going to a small summer camp in my hometown filled with all sorts of fun activities like high ropes, rocking climbing, color wars, jet skis, a water blob, you name it! There was one aspect of camp that I didn’t have as many positive feelings toward. Deep into the grounds of camp, there were some more of these fun activities, but, in order to get there, you had to walk through “Blackbeard’s Cave” (as far as I can tell, the real Blackbeard did not travel through this cave in Arkansas). When I say this cave was pitch-black, I mean it. What was probably a very short distance took what felt like hours to trudge through. As an eleven-year-old, it was a bit scary! But, once I saw that first sliver of light, all my anxieties would go away. Not only did that light show me that I was almost out, but I could finally see. Calvin says, “Out(side) of Christ, there is not even a spark of true light.”

What does Jesus say to this? “Whoever follows Me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (v.12). Life without Christ is like walking through “Blackbeard’s Cave” every moment of every day. Life with Christ is where true life is found.

The Pharisees couldn’t understand that Jesus was truly God. Yet, as we see in their discourse in the following verses, only the Son of Man could be lifted up for the sins of humanity. “It was His task to swallow up death. Who but Life could do this? It was His task to conquer sin. Who but very Righteousness could do this? It was His task to rout the powers of the world and air. Who but a power higher than the world and air could do this? Therefore our most merciful God, when He willed that we be redeemed, made Himself our Redeemer in the person of His only-begotten Son” (Calvin’s Institutes 2.12.2).

The good news of the Gospel is that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, came down and gave us the light of the world in Himself through His death and resurrection so that we could take part in the light of life only found in Him by faith to the praise of His glory. “For at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light…” (Ephesians 5:8).

A Life of Repentance

Riley Mitchell — Fri, 07 Mar 2025 :00 -0500

This passage is all about the divisiveness of Jesus Christ. Leading up to these verses, we see that “the Jews were seeking to kill Him” (John 7:1) and “not even His brothers believed in Him” (John 7:5). His brothers egg Him on to go to the Feast of Booths to make a political scene, a grand public Messianic entrance. “If you are really the Messiah, go public,” is what they are saying. Jesus refuses to make a scene but later goes to the feast in private. But before He does, He tells His brothers, “The world cannot hate you, but it hates Me because I testify about it that its works are evil” (John 7:7). This is why Jesus is so divisive, because He exposes sin. When He does go up to the feast, He begins teaching. The crowd asks Him where He gets His teaching from, and He tells them He gets it from God, and that the reason they do not listen is because they do not do God’s will. Apparently, they did not realize that it was Jesus until now, and so they debate on whether or not He is the Christ. The crowd is divided: “many of the people believed in Him” (John 7:31), but others did not. When the Pharisees get word of this, they send officers to arrest Him.

This is when Jesus gives the teaching in our passage: “I will be with you a little longer and then I am going to Him who sent Me. You will seek Me and you will not find Me. Where I am you cannot come” (John 7:33–34), and “if anyone thirsts, let Him come to Me and drink. Whoever believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’ Now this he said about the Spirit, whom those who believed in Him were to receive, for as yet the Spirit had not been given” (John 7:37–38). Once again, the crowd is divided and even more people want Him arrested, but the officers do not lay hands on Him because they themselves believe Him.

What is so offensive about Jesus? We would be naive to think that He would be any less divisive if He were living in our day. Jesus tells us the reason for His offense: “because I testify about [the world] that its works are evil” (John 7:7), and because we do not do God’s will (John 7:17). We hate to have our sin exposed. In this passage, Jesus tells us about His future suffering and exaltation and calls everyone to come to Him for salvation, saying “whoever believes in Me” will receive the Holy Spirit. This is not the first time Jesus says things like this. He told Nicodemus, “you must be born again” by the Spirit of God (John 3:7). He told the woman at the well, “everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life” (John 4:13–14), and He exposes her sin in no uncertain terms. In this passage He speaks to an open crowd at a Jewish festival. Everywhere He goes He is telling people to repent and claims that salvation is found in no one else but Him. We have entered the “I Am” section of John’s Gospel, and he will say many more such things. What is remarkable about Jesus is not just that He eats with tax collectors and sinners, but that He interacts with them in such a way that they are both drawn to Him and repent. In His first sermon, Jesus says, “repent and believe in the Gospel” (Mark 1:15). He is always testifying to us that our works are evil, and He is always calling, “come now, let us reason together: though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be white as snow” (Isaiah 1:18). No one is exempt from this call. As Martin Luther said, “When our Lord and Master Jesus Christ said ‘Repent,’ He intended that the entire life of believers should be repentance.”

Will You Eat?

Reynolds Walker — Fri, 21 Feb 2025 :00 -0500

The eternal Son of God, the Prince of Peace, offers Himself as the Bread of Life—true food and true drink.

Will you eat?

This is an innocuous question in most contexts, and the answer proves quite obvious in our daily lives. We must eat in order to live. It is often not a matter of will we eat but of what will we eat. However, Christ’s implicit question— “Will you eat?”—bears eternal implications of life and death. Life is found in no other, for “there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12). Here, Christ subverts and restates the question Adam and Eve faced in the Garden. Adam and Eve ate according to their own wisdom and desires and experienced death. And we are all sons of Adam and daughters of Eve in this respect. Yet the Lord of Glory tasted death for our sake, that we might eat of Him and taste life (1 Corinthians 2:8; Hebrews 2:9). Will you trust in your own wisdom and understanding, or eat of Christ?

This question proved difficult for Jesus’s audience to digest. And even though we live two thousand years later, if we are honest, this question still challenges us. From the Garden through the wilderness, we now see how the entirety of the Old Testament sings of Christ, and the beauty of the Lord’s table. However, despite the perspective we now enjoy, and immune as we might be to the shocking nature of Christ’s teaching experienced by His original audience, we still struggle to trust the words of Christ, to trust in His sufficiency for us daily, moment by moment. Unlike the manna sent to sustain the Israelites in the wilderness, Christ is the true bread and utterly sufficient, bringing everlasting satisfaction and life. Yet we must still, like the manna God sent to the Israelites, partake of Him continually. Will you eat of Christ?

Eating of Christ continually might strike us as a daunting task. But friends, let us remember and take courage from the truth of the Gospel found in Christ’s words: “No one can come to Me unless it is granted him by the Father” (v. 65). We have not, and indeed could not, come to Christ by our own power. The beautiful reality of the Gospel is that the Father has graciously drawn us to Christ that we might taste and see that He is good (Psalm 34:8)! As Christ chose the twelve, we are chosen in Him. The Lord has drawn us, the Lord has chosen us in Christ, and He will bring His work to completion (Philippians 1:6). Just as He drew us at first, He is faithful to draw us continually back to Christ and lead us to eat.

May we all remember, as Peter knew, that there is nowhere else to go—Christ alone has the words of eternal life. Indeed, He is the very Word of God and the only source of Life. By grace, through faith, He has granted Himself to us that we might have life. He has given us true food and true drink, and “the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable” (Romans 11:29)! He is our portion forever. And by His grace, we will eat.

Let us feast!

May the Lord bless you and keep you.

The Bread of Life

Ann Higginbottom — Fri, 14 Feb 2025 :00 -0500

I come from a lineage of women who loved to feed the masses. Growing up, our home was always a hub for gathering. We had a revolving door – my parents always insisting that they would happily host any and every event. My mom was the quintessential hostess. Anyone was welcome at her table, and there was always enough food. As her children got older, Mom embraced the opportunity to be the hangout spot for all of our friends after school and on weekends. The countertop jars were always filled to the brim with snacks, and she only needed a five-minute notice to have a chocolate fountain billowing on the kitchen island. The ministry of hospitality and the liturgy of providing food was an example that I watched unfold through my mother and, before that, through my grandmother.

In John chapter 6, we run across the familiar passage of Jesus feeding the five thousand – and that’s just the men! In reality, the disciples were looking to Jesus to provide for well over five thousand, considering the women and children also in attendance. I considered a new perspective as I sat in the passage this week: What would it feel like to be the disciples and to have the panic that there would not be enough food? As a hostess, I know the innate worry of making sure there is more than enough for my guests. Can you imagine the embarrassment of not having enough? Especially when you start with so little—how far can a little boy’s lunch actually go? Verse 11 stands out to me: “Jesus then took the loaves…” In the hands of the Master of the Feast there was abundance. The people had their fill—not just an equal portion, but as much as they wanted. Even still, there were leftovers. We see the extraordinary provision of God through the hands of Jesus. The provision wasn’t just enough – it was overflowing.

The reality for us as believers in Christ is that His grace to us is inexhaustible. It is abundantly more than we need. As we see illustrated in John 6, Jesus gives us everything that we need when we can often be found under the table, looking for scraps. Yet Jesus takes the loaves…and provides again and again.

A feast of fishes and loaves should certainly turn our eyes to consider the greatest feast to come – with the Master of the Feast sitting on His throne. This week, I have imagined that feast in new ways. My beloved grandmother went home to the Lord on Monday. As I sat with her this past week, in a very thin and holy place, I imagined myself sitting on heaven’s shore. Across the water, on the other side, a feast is prepared with plentiful food, unending joy, and fellowship unbroken and restored. How I long to see what she sees – to behold the feast that our King has prepared. And it reminds me that one day, what we lack here will be replaced with the Lord’s overflowing table. What a joy it will be to sit down next to my mom and my grandmother and to see Jesus, our true Bridegroom, the Master of the Feast. In Him there is more than enough. Hallelujah! Come, Lord Jesus, come.

Finding Ourselves in Christ

Amy Tassos — Fri, 07 Feb 2025 :00 -0500

In her book Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert, Rosaria Butterfield who was once a tenured professor at Syracuse University and the proselytizing staff sponsor of the LGBTQ club on campus, describes coming to saving faith in Christ as a “train wreck”. She confessed, “Conversion put me in a complicated and comprehensive chaos.”

Like Rosaria, those of us who came to saving faith after childhood were unable to go back to the life we lived before, the friends we had before, or to the people we were before. Our eyes were opened, and our “hearts burned within us” (Luke 24:32). Where once we ignored the Spirit’s urging, by God’s gracious ordaining, we were, in His perfect time, captured by the Spirit. Through faith in our newfound Savior, we are now united with Christ. We cannot unsee what we now know to be true. God is real, living, and active. His eyes are upon us (Psalm 11:4, Psalm 34:15). For reasons known only to Him, He has taken us for His own.

Imagine the Apostle Paul’s life. Talk about a train wreck! “A Hebrew of Hebrews,” he tells us, “As to the law, a Pharisee”. Paul was also a Roman soldier who requested a commission from the High Priest to travel from Jerusalem to Damascus, specifically, to hunt down and imprison Christians (Acts 9). Yet, it is Paul who says, “I count all things as rubbish in order that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith” (Philippians 3:8-9). Paul counted the social prestige and power he had among the Romans and the Jews as nothing compared to his newfound life in Christ.

In the moment when our lives are dramatically altered, it may seem like God is being capricious. If He really cares about us, how could He upend our lives? Why would He not prevent such distress? Because He knows what it takes to drive our focus off ourselves and onto the only One who can save us. He knows that saving us from building our own kingdom is saving our lives, not wrecking them.

Rosaria became a pastor’s wife, a mother to a multitude of fostered and adopted children, and a counselor to women in her church and across the nation. Her name is more known now than it ever was as a professor at Syracuse, not because of what she is doing, but what Jesus is doing through her.

The Apostle Paul gave up the comfort of his financial status and the authority due to his rank when his union with Christ turned his zeal in another direction – that of telling the world where they too could find real life.

Unlike the new car that begins to lose value the minute it is driven off the lot, the one who trusts in Jesus for all that they are and all that they have begins to grow shinier and newer with each new day. When we are in Christ, we are one with Him. We died in His death, we rose with Him in newness of life, and we are already seated with Him in the heavenly realm (Ephesians 2:6). It is miraculous! It is supernatural. It is a gift we did not deserve, but one God gave us because He marked us out as His own. God begins to teach us, by fits and starts, what His offspring look like, behave like, and talk like, and not because we are automatons following a pattern, but because God’s Spirit lives in us and is transforming us.

Lesbians like Rosaria Butterfield, who recognized her sin of pride as the underpinning of her lesbian lifestyle, and murderers like the Apostle Paul, who are fueled by anger because their personal authority and identity are at stake, become instruments of grace to the world around them. When our old self (Romans 6:6, Ephesians 4:22, & Colossians 3:9) dies, all of our self-motivated, self-seeking, self-honoring, self-righteousness comes to an end because the Spirit of God, who now lives in us, cannot abide with these things. By His Spirit, these isolating characteristics are replaced with a genuine love for God and others that is contagious and compelling. The person God made us to be with the gifts and personality He has given us does not disappear, it simply gets the darkness (the instinct to turn in on oneself or to rely on oneself) removed so the light of Christ can shine through.

Are you found in Christ? Does your heart burn within you to know more of Him? If not, ask God to reveal Himself to you. He is trustworthy, good, and faithful and does not wish that anyone should be left in their sin leading to death (see 2 Peter 3:9).

Love, Faith, and Obedience

Nathan Davy — Fri, 31 Jan 2025 :00 -0500

Pastor Goebel preached on Sunday from John 5:30-47, with the theme of the Jews refusing to believe in Jesus, rejecting the testimony about Jesus that He was the Son of God – the fourfold testimony of John the Baptist, the miracles of Jesus, the voice of God the Father speaking from heaven at Jesus’ baptism, and finally the testimony of Scripture itself. I want to focus more narrowly on one thing that Pastor Goebel said: that faith in Christ requires love for Him, and that the Pharisees’ ultimate problem was that they attempted to obey the Scriptures without love. To this end, let’s revisit just a single verse from this past Sunday’s passage, “yet you refuse to come to Me that you may have life” (John 5:40).

A more literal version of this verse would be, “but you do not wish to come to Me so that you may have life.” Jesus is saying that because their hearts are not inclined towards Him, they do not come to Him for life, even though they have the revealed word of God in the Scriptures of the Old Testament (v. 38-39). The 19th century English evangelical pastor J. C. Ryle put it this way in his commentary on John: “The plain truth is that the chief seat of unbelief is the heart.” He also wrote in the same commentary, “True faith does not depend merely on the state of man’s head and understanding, but on the state of his heart…so long as there is anything the man is secretly loving more than God, there will be no true faith” (J. C. Ryle, Expository Thoughts on John). This is not a good place to be! But it is a place that we can find ourselves. As Calvin famously wrote, “the human heart is a perpetual factory of idols.” Faith in Jesus is not an intellectual assent to what the Bible says about Him. Faith in Jesus is love for Him, which manifests itself as obedience to Him.

Love, faith, and obedience are interconnected. It is impossible to separate them completely from each other. For example, though we might think we have encountered an intellectual obstacle to belief in something that the word of God plainly teaches, what we have done is rather simply refuse to submit our hearts to Christ in obedience, because, as Ryle puts it, there is something that we are “secretly loving more than God” (compare Romans 1:18-32). But also, we can experience difficulty in obedience because we have not given ourselves fully over in love for Him. Sometimes even when we find our love for God lacking in zeal, it would help if we were simply to try obeying Him.

What this means is that whenever we find ourselves deficient in any one of these – love, faith, and obedience – after we pray to the Holy Spirit to give us more of what we lack, though we fail in one way, God may make it easier for us to persevere in another. If we struggle to believe, we may find that we can attempt the obedience of love and leave it to God to increase our faith. If we find ourselves struggling to obey, we can meditate on the surpassing worth and work of Christ and entreat the Lord to increase our love through faith in Him, removing all idols from our hearts, and obedience will follow.

But whatever our struggle may be, Jesus says in John 5:24, “Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever hears My Word and believes Him who sent Me has eternal life. He does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life.” New life in Christ is not a promise for “sometime,” it’s a promise for now. “Whoever hears and believes has eternal life.” If we seek Christ in faith, we have passed from death to life already.

Where Graves Are

Brett Bradshaw — Fri, 24 Jan 2025 :00 -0500

The hum of rushing tires gathers beyond the bend in the county road. A car comes round and speeds past driving east. The air rips and then trails into silence again. The woods are quiet now. Pine trees hem in the cemetery to the south and west. Overhead is a dusty cotton. Rain is in the forecast, but it has held off. A little chapel—painted white years ago, now chipped, and aging into the character of forest scatter, fallen leaves and limbs—sits quietly beyond the chained-link fence.

The man wears faded blue jeans. His neck is browned like a red oak leaf in October. The hair that shows beneath his cap is nearly all white. He steps up into the seat of his tractor. The engine fires. The tractor putters loudly. The man backs the tractor near where the grave is to be dug.

He stands, turns to the rear, flips down a seat, and sits at the backhoe. It is an excavating machine with a bucket attached to a hydraulic arm called a boom. He places his hands on the control sticks. The boom reaches out. The bucket sinks into the ground and pulls back, grass ripping. It scoops under, lifts, and swings to one side. The boom uncurls like a long finger and dumps red dirt tumbling to the ground.

The man works the backhoe controls confidently and skillfully, as if the knowledge of his work—of length and breadth and depth; of how hard to push; of when to cut, to scrape, to pound, to ease up and lift; of human sorrow and dignity—is engraved in the palms of his hands. There was a time when he had to think about what he was doing. It has become easier now, after over 40 years of work, as accustomed to his labor as he has become, for his mind to get lost in thought.

His mind goes out now beyond the cemetery to the little chapel by the woods. He thinks about all the people who have come and gone there, poor folks, surely. He thinks about all the sermons preached, the reading of The Book, the singing of hymns, the breaking of bread, and the pouring of wine. He wonders how they were baptized, these people who found Jesus there. Did the pastor place his hand dripping upon their heads—in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit—within the chapel, or were they led to the muddy banks of the Angelina River? It’s a short drive from here. Were their old selves killed beneath the shadow of the pines upon the waters? Did they rise alive out of the river with a shout of laughter?

It will rain soon. That is clear now. Beyond the tree line, the sky slants low in gray brushstrokes. An old urge like anxiety rises within the man and tells him to rush. He resists and takes his time. He continues at the backhoe control, and nearing the finishing depth, the bucket grates against sorry iron ore rock. Rising, half-standing, the man leans forward. He grits his teeth. He bites his lower lip and presses the backhoe controls harder. The bucket scrapes against dirt and rock, digging the grave deeper still. Then by some measure of eye, instinct, or patience, the man stops. He kills the engine and steps down from the tractor.

Taking a rake and a spade, what he calls a sharp-shooter, the man lowers himself into the grave. He thrusts his tool into the earth, lifts the handle, and thrusts it back down again. In doing this, over and over, the sharp-shooter chops the ruts the bucket’s teeth have left. The man sets it down and picks up his rake. He pushes and pulls the wooden handle, back and forth, smoothing the grave floor. Then he tosses his tools out of the grave, reaches up, and grabs the top edge. He bends his knees and jumps, hoisting himself out. The man rises, an ache shooting from his lower back, up through his spine, tingling into the length of arms. He ignores the pain and sweeps his hand over his pant legs. Dust puffs lightly in the air.

The man stands there and looks. His eyes are deep brown, enkindled. Furrows and seams line his face. It is there all the work, all the tears, all the laughter carve their remembrance. For a moment, he comes into the knowledge of his work. He too will die and return to dust.

The rain is closer now, somewhere over the nearby pastures. The scent of wet hay, pine, and cedar comes in on a soft breeze. He needs to get moving. The man drives the tractor and parks it out of sight. He returns to the grave, frames it with boards, sets the casket lowering device, lays artificial grass, puts up the graveside tent, and sets rows of folding chairs. The man packs up his tools and loads them onto his tractor trailer. He walks out the cemetery, headed toward the chapel.

From behind, he can hear rain begin to rustle through the pines. There is something soothing about it, almost like a lullaby. The man moves slow enough to listen. Rain drops begin to fall upon his shoulders. He steps to the chapel door, finds it unlocked, and walks inside.

The light is dim, the pews empty. The pine floor creaks beneath his feet. Rain begins to fall softly upon the roof. He sits down and rests awhile.

Listening there to the rain and the wind and the thin silence, the man remembers what he has forgotten. He remembers the end of the great dream we have rushed after without knowing where we are going. He remembers what we have lost in leaving where we have come from. He remembers every dear one sown in tears. He remembers our lives are offered: blessed and broken, given and gathered up.

The rain continues to fall, and the man imagines he can almost hear some memory of music buried within the old yellow pine with which the chapel was built. It is as if for his whole life, he has been waiting to hear that song that goes out through all the earth, the words to the end of the world, and beyond all time. What will it be like where graves are when that Voice calls?

Marvel

Robby Higginbottom — Fri, 17 Jan 2025 :00 -0500

Do we marvel at Jesus Christ? In every chapter of his Gospel, John adds brushstrokes to his breathtaking picture, and this chapter is no exception. We just learned that the Jewish leaders “were seeking all the more to kill [Jesus], because not only was He breaking the Sabbath, but He was even calling God His own Father, making Himself equal with God” (John 5:18). In this tense moment, we would all understand if Jesus chose to back off the rhetoric and de-escalate the situation. But He does the opposite. “My Father is working until now,” Jesus says, “and I am working” (5:17). Then with His trademark “truly, truly,” He adds that He (the Son) can do nothing on His own but only what He sees the Father doing. He says that the Father loves the Son and shows Him all that He is doing. So in a few sentences, Jesus says enough to infuriate His opponents and captivate His disciples. Who would claim to be THE Son of THE Father? Who would suggest that he can see what the Father is doing? Who would boast that the Father loves him and shows him all that He is doing? Jesus does. In the same breath, Jesus makes an unmistakable claim to divinity and a shocking declaration of dependence. He is one with the Father, and yet He refuses to do anything on His own apart from the Father. Do we marvel at Jesus Christ?

Over 50 years ago Rabbi Abraham Heschel wrote, “As civilization advances, the sense of wonder declines.” Haven’t we seen this all around us? Why are we not in awe of air travel every time we step on a plane? Why do we not marvel at medical treatments that would have been unimaginable decades ago? Why are we not flabbergasted by the wonders of technology that we use every day? Making light of this reality, one comedian says, “Everything’s amazing, and no one is happy.” Where has our sense of wonder gone…and why? That’s a question to consider as we walk around a created world full of wonders. Why do we not marvel at coral sunsets, snow-capped mountains, aspen trees, ocean waves, and people made in the image of God? Even more, we should marvel at our Creator, who is truly wonder-ful. From his opening paragraphs, John makes the staggering claim that around 2,000 years ago, the Creator stepped into His creation. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us (John 1:14). For a brief time, the Son showed us what the Father is like and what the Father is doing. Jesus did great works, and He promised to do even greater works (John 5:20). Why? So that we would MARVEL. We should marvel at these words in John 5, but we should marvel even more at the greater works that were to come: when Jesus died on the cross and rose from the grave. Why would this only Son of the Father give Himself for us? As our exposure to the gospel advances, should our sense of wonder decline?

O Lord, help us to marvel at Your glory and grace!

The Greatest Gift

Jack Bennington — Fri, 10 Jan 2025 :00 -0500

After the last Old Testament prophet Malachi, around four hundred years went by before we heard another voice again. Four hundred years of waiting. It wasn’t like Israel hadn’t been waiting before that time as well. God had used many leaders and prophets to bring glory to His name, but none of them were as highly anticipated as the coming of Christ. Prophet after prophet was given the word of God that the true King was coming. It was so well known that even some of the Gentiles knew of His coming! We see these Magi, or wise men, coming a long distance from likely Persia into Jerusalem simply saying, “Where is He who has been born King of the Jews?” They had to have thought something like “Surely the King of Israel is in the capital city, right?” But that was not the case.

We see in verse three that they saw His star having remembered Numbers 24:17, “… a star shall come out of Jacob, and a scepter shall rise out of Israel.” While they were searching for the true King to worship Him, everyone in Jerusalem, including Herod and the chief priests, did not have the same motivation and couldn’t be bothered to travel the 20-mile distance to Bethlehem. The Magi continued on their journey to Bethlehem following the star, having heard before Micah 5:2, “And you, O Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a Ruler who will shepherd My people Israel.”

In verse 10, we see that seeing the star brought them “great joy.” They knew that they were on their way to meet the King. Then, in verse 11, we see their journey come to completion, “And going into the house, they saw the Child with Mary His mother, and they fell down and worshiped Him.” This Baby that they bowed down to worship was God in the flesh. This was their great High Priest. This was the Savior not just for the Jews but the Gentiles also. We see this play out in Christ’s life, death, and resurrection, but we see it as well in the gifts that the Magi brought for Him.

This Christmas was extra special for my family because my parents had just converted all of their home video tapes to DVD for me, my wife, and my siblings to watch and remember. The great videographer was my dad, and we watched videos from 1998 to about 2008. While these videos were all over the place in occasion and location, one constant was Christmas morning. My dad always had his camera ready for that (and still did this year). My brother, sister, and I would wait for the okay and then run out from our rooms to see what gifts we had gotten for Christmas. Whether it was a new toy, candy, or most likely for myself as a kid, something to do with Pokémon, there was so much excitement and joy.

As a kid, when I read the gifts that Jesus got for Christmas/His birth, I probably thought “Yikes, not my kind of gifts.” But what do gold, frankincense, and myrrh actually point to? Gold, the metal of kings, as Jesus was and is the King of Kings that the Magi knew well. Frankincense, the material used for worship of God in the temple. Never was it mixed with sin offerings because this King was without sin. Myrrh, the material used for embalming. Whether the Magi knew of Jesus’ painful death to come one day or not, the Old Testament pointed to Jesus’ life as one of suffering. Notably in Isaiah 53:4-5, “Surely He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed Him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But He was pierced for our transgressions; He was crushed for our iniquities; upon Him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with His wounds we are healed.” These three gifts represented Jesus as King, High Priest, and Savior.

There has been speculation since this event surrounding the star and how the Magi found Jesus. Some point to the planets Jupiter and Saturn coming close together to form a bright light, while others theorize that it could’ve been a comet or supernova. The most likely answer is that God sent them a celestial sign to guide them. God has used many different ways to bring people to Christ. As James Montgomery Boice says in The King Has Come, “The important thing is that God is behind these means of grace, and it is because He is and has been working in them that Jesus has been found. Salvation is of the Lord! It is His work” (pg.182). As we should rightly give Him the greatest gift we can, as seen by the Magi in our worship of Him, it is He, in His birth, that has given the gift to us. God took on human flesh to dwell with His people and become the sinner’s substitute on the cross. What a great gift we have in Jesus.

All of Life: An Advent

Chris Hatley — Fri, 03 Jan 2025 :00 -0500

For many, Advent is a season of great anticipation and expectation. As Christmas and the New Year draw closer, our lives begin to organize around planned celebration and remembrance. Old rhythms and traditions emerge, families gather, often for the first time in a while, and generosity becomes far more commonplace. This, of course, is not a wholly universal experience. For some, Advent is also a season of great grief and longing. Old hurts can seem more pronounced and lost loved ones feel particularly absent. However, regardless of what this Christmas season holds for you, we should all see a bit of ourselves in the character of Simeon.

Simeon, in Luke 2, is said to be waiting for the consolation of Israel. The Holy Spirit had told him he would not die until he had seen his Savior. And thus, righteous and devout, Simeon existed in a constant state of advent. His whole life was one of anticipation and expectation, one of grief and longing. We can assume, in his many years of life, Simeon was privy to much pain and suffering. In not being able to depart this world yet in peace, he likely watched many of his friends and family members pass on in their own time. Just as likely, Simeon assuredly had many years of great celebration, full of things to be thankful for. He existed in a sort of tension; a beautiful blend of all life holds for us. And so when he does finally see his Savior, taking the baby Jesus up in his arms, Simeon’s natural response is one of blessing and rejoicing.

Simeon reminds us that all of life is an advent; that these feelings of anticipation and longing we so associate with this time of year are not reserved for merely the Christmas season. We are always sitting before the throne, awaiting the coming of our King. Like Simeon, we can rejoice, thanking the Lord that, because Jesus has already come, we, His servants, can depart in peace. However, like Simeon we also look ahead to Christ’s second coming and do so with longing and assured expectation. In a sense, we too will not taste death until we see Christ in the flesh. Yes, we may pass from this life, but the bonds of death will not hold us.

Christ has come. Christ is coming again. We await Him with open arms.

Focus

Brett Bradshaw — Fri, 27 Dec 2024 :00 -0500

I write poetry in hope of slowing down and seeing something more carefully than before. It is, for me, a way of praying. I work at writing worthy of being read aloud, the sounds of the words enriching and expanding the meaning. I cannot be certain I have obtained it. You may try reading the poem aloud, slowly. And see what happens.

The words of this poem started coming to me one morning at Park Cities Presbyterian Church. I was walking toward the Sanctuary. The doors were open. I looked in. Light poured into the space through stained-glass. I went inside. The Sanctuary was empty. Quiet. And a solid beam of light slanted through one of the higher windows and pooled onto a pew. I went to where the light landed and sat down.

The poem’s opening came from a conversation I had with a creative director who said that the pursuit of “next” without knowing where we are going is driving us crazy. The final line of the poem was inspired by a comment from my pastor and friend.

It is titled “Focus.” In common use, focus means the center of attention or clear perception. The word can mean a guiding purpose or motivation. In photography, the focus is where light converges in the lens. In pathology, focus is the point of disease. I wrote this poem not knowing it was for Advent. I now see that it is. The word focus in Latin means “fireplace.”
— Brett Bradshaw
Advent 2024

Focus

A stained-glass window seen from the outside may be drab and meaningless,
but seen from the inside it may be an apocalypse in jeweled points of light.
— George Buttrick

A sure sign of absurdity
is to rush for whatever next
without knowing where we are
going or why or what it costs.
Avarice sells exile as freedom
for the price of focus.

Everyone is busy now, never
enough to allay our loneliness,
ever after the upward prize:
the artificial, the trivial, the amusing,
as if the chief end of man
is to maximize status and be
anxious forever.

The antithesis of speed, asinine ambition,
and scale is the synthesis of understanding.
In remembrance, we receive and rest.

The Sanctuary is dimly lit except
for shafts of shattered kaleidoscope mirth—
rose pink, yellow iris, and Texas mountain
laurel blooms—the slanting aureoles, stained
glass; higher sheen strikes the words the world
inscribed, inflamed, enkindles a wood pew.
Stop and listen. Follow the Light anew.

The Judgment We All Need

Sam Leopold — Fri, 20 Dec 2024 :00 -0500

Our family’s non-negotiable Christmas movie is White Christmas. For those who don’t know the story, you need to watch it! The basic premise is that with the backdrop of post-World War II America, the male entertainment duo of Wallace and Davis partner up with the sister act of Betty and Judy Haynes to do something kind for the general under whom they served during the war. In their attempts to do something kind, feelings between Wallace and Betty develop, but because of human meddling from every direction, there is conflict, and things seem to have all gone up into flames. Every year, even though I know it all works out in the end, I can’t help but get angry at all the meddling in the story. While I am fully aware of how my anger reveals my own issues, I can’t help but want to yell at the screen every year for everyone just to stop meddling and let love and kindness play out the way they are supposed to. My sadness at how human meddling plays out runs true to what God reveals to us in His Word. We can say that we long for a judgment on life that allows for a full expression of goodness in our lives and relationships, but we all know that often we are left with judgments that bring sadness as God allows sin to have its consequences it can’t help but have in our lives.

As we look at the message given the prophet Isaiah of the promised light to shine forth in our darkness, we are reminded of the context of our promised Savior. We are also reminded of what judgment looks like without Him as God encourages His people to hope for the salvation they need in judgment with Him.

Judgment from without: The context of the book of Isaiah and the darkness in which God has shown His light is the Assyrian invasion of the nation of Israel. Verses 8-12 of chapter 9 from the book of Isaiah, written in the past tense, show us that God has judged Israel for their unfaithfulness, and He is even using nations who are not a part of His covenant people to judge Israel. God’s righteousness in Himself and His faithfulness to the people of Israel are shown through His refining judgment of them. He is upholding His part of the covenant, and even though there is great pain in this type of darkness, God is still showing His people His never failing, never giving up, Hesed love. As you read the rest of chapter 9, Israel is continually tempted to live in isolation from the Lord, letting pride be their guide. Similarly, as we choose to live in isolation from the Lord, we miss what He is trying to tell us in the beauty of covenantal relationship. Have you seen how God is trying to use your circumstances to show you what life is like without Him? Are you able to sense the Lord’s Spirit in those moments to repent and turn back to a right relationship with the Lord?

Judgment from within: Isaiah concludes this chapter with negative imagery of a different type of light, a burning fire. Verses 8-12 show us the picture of what unrighteousness and sin do to us; they burn us from within. When we turn away from the Lord in isolation, His graciousness to us in those moments lets us see what destruction sin can do to our lives, like a fire that burns everything in its path and scorches the land. When left to ourselves, destruction is the result. First and foremost, there's destruction in our relationship with the Lord, the life and strength we need, but there's also destruction in our relationships with others, whether from a societal or communal perspective (government and community) or with individuals in our lives (family and friends). The life we are seeking can be found only in the Lord, and everything else we seek to gain sustenance from will leave us hungry again. Have you felt this before? Like the characters in White Christmas, have you experienced the disorienting destruction sin can bring to your relationships?

Judgment we need: The judgment we need is Jesus. Because sin has ruined us from without and within, we need the light to shine in the darkness, not in the form of nations rising against us or the uncontrollable fire put out, but in the form of a person. “…So that it may be clearly seen that his works have been carried out by God” (John 3:21). The question is not whether we have been in darkness or not, or even that we don’t like the darkness. The question is, when the light enters in, are we going to run toward it, admitting that without the light we would be stuck, or are we going to love the darkness so much that we can’t bring ourselves to repent? It’s admitting that Jesus, because He came to earth, shows us that we in no part can manage the fire of sin’s destruction. We needed the fire to burn someone else in our place–Jesus. Do you feel the warmth and goodness of God beckoning you to run toward His light, which shines to us in the person of Jesus?

So don’t just yell at the sin you see running rampant in your life like a critic watching a scene, knowing what everyone should do. Admit that we are all in places of destruction without God. See it as God’s grace to you so that you may see the wisdom of living life the way God would want you to. May God’s light guide us through the darkness so that we may worship the one true Light of the world.

Merry Christmas!

Fiery Guidance

Neatice Warner — Fri, 13 Dec 2024 :00 -0500

Some time ago a home near ours burned almost to the ground. Hearing sirens that night, we went outside, where other neighbors stood looking toward an empty house across the street. A column of flame some 60 feet high had risen above the structure. Firefighters were working hard as the towering flames lit up the sky, and none of us required a warning to stand back.

Fire gives light, but natural fire also destroys. Moses, however, encountered the LORD in a fire that did not consume the bush around it (Exodus 3:2-6), a fire that revealed God’s holy presence, deliberately and graciously shown to the man He was calling to lead His people out of slavery in Egypt. And as God’s people began to travel toward their promised land, God led them, showing His presence in a great column of cloud that at night was filled with fire.

When the Israelites reached Mount Sinai, God again revealed His presence in fire (Exodus 19:18). Later, after Moses constructed a tent for worship, the cloud stood above the holy place in that “tabernacle,” visible day and night to all the people of Israel (Exodus 40:38).

So, when an Israelite man or woman went outside their tent at night and looked up to that blazing pillar, what did they feel? Were they awed, reassured, or a little frightened? Would any of them have dared to approach the great column of fire?

Fire describes God’s presence repeatedly in Scripture. It pictures the awesome holiness of His character, blazing through all that is corrupt and deceitful in the world. Fire evokes God’s wrath against sin (e.g. Numbers 16:28-35; 2 Peter 3:7; Revelation 20:14-15), and His stunning power (1 Kings 18:36-39). John the Baptist prophesied that Jesus the Messiah would baptize with the Holy Spirit and with fire (Luke 3:16-17). And, God manifested the new work of His Holy Spirit with tongues of fire above the apostles at Pentecost (Acts 2:1-4).

Now God Himself, because of His Son’s redemptive death and resurrection, dwells within His people in His Holy Spirit—to assure, preserve, develop, and to guide.

What is God’s guidance like today? The Israelites heard God’s words from Moses; we have His Word before us. Through God’s Word His Spirit enlightens, encourages, develops, and corrects us.

Malachi’s prophecy describes Messiah’s coming as “like a refiner’s fire,” which would purify God’s people, “and refine them like gold and silver” (Malachi 3:2-3). We may experience a correction from God like a burning deep inside, perhaps destroying some prideful resistance to what we know is God’s will. Repentance often hurts! But it is sweet grace, and restoration is His wonderful design.

God’s guidance also comes in the fiery pillar of circumstances that our sovereign God controls. His good purposes may guide us through periods of frustration, through relationships that repeatedly discourage, through disappointments in our business or profession, and even deep physical or emotional pain. We may feel scorched and scarred. Yet God cares, and His pathway is purposeful. His aim is holiness that reflects His—and joyful renewal is His great work.

Let There Be Light

Jessica Fikkert — Fri, 06 Dec 2024 :00 -0500

If you’re like me, you have a complicated relationship with sequels and remakes. I grew up watching the 1983 version of The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, and while part of me can’t wait to see Dallas Jenkins’ version in theaters this December, there's a good chance I won't love it as much as the original. You see, that’s the problem with sequels and remakes—we long to return to the stories we know and love, but all too often, they fail to live up to the wonder and magic of the original.

Yet when we open our Bibles to John 1, we are met with a sequel that is even better than the original. John opens his Gospel with three words: “In the beginning.” With these three little words, we are reminded of the first time we’ve heard them—when God spoke Creation into existence. What is John doing? Why does he want us to remember Genesis 1?

Most of us are familiar with the startling claim John makes in the first verses of his Gospel—that the man Jesus is the very Word of God, the One who created the world, God Himself. John tells us that the One who said, “Let there be light!” (Genesis 1:3) is the same One who came into the world as light (John 1:3-5). This is an amazing and mind-blowing claim, but I don’t want us to miss what else John is doing. The Gospel of John is rich and complex, full of different images and allusions, including several references to Creation (for example, John 20 returns us to the Garden). What is John trying to say? Why all the references to Creation? Because in Jesus Christ’s resurrection, the New Creation has begun. This is the sequel to end all sequels, the remake that does not disappoint. Even now, Jesus Christ is restoring, renewing, and making new His good Creation.

It’s easy to forget this, isn’t it? We look around at the darkness and brokenness of our world, and it’s hard to think that any of this looks, well, new. It’s easy to lean into the “not yet” of the Kingdom, forgetting that it really is “now” too, that Jesus Christ is already ruling and reigning. Yet Jesus Christ is risen from the dead. The New Creation really has dawned. Jesus is, even now, making all things new (Revelation 21:5). And if you belong to Jesus, you belong to this New Creation (2 Corinthians 5:17).

What difference would it make in your week if you really believed that the New Creation has come? How would it change the way you live Monday through Saturday? Advent is a season of waiting, but it is also one of hope. The dawning of the New Creation should transfuse our lives with hope and joy, because we know that no matter how dark things look, the restoration process has started. And if you need proof, just look in the mirror.

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” The light has conquered and is conquering the darkness. Happy Advent.

Mercy Work

Leslie Newman — Fri, 29 Nov 2024 :00 -0500

1986. That was thirty-eight years ago. That’s a long time to be sick! Maybe you have suffered for a long time. No doubt, like this man at the Bethesda pool in John 5, chronic pain and illness is very hard day in and day out. What were his feelings? Hopeless? Helpless? Cynical? We don’t really know, except that when Jesus asks him if he wants to get well, his answer is not straightforward. It seems that he is relying on himself or someone else to do something for him – get him to the stirred-up water so he can be healed. He has no one to help him, and also his own efforts are never enough. The man reflects his heart when he says, “I have no one…while I am trying to get there…” Oh, the wonderful mercy of our Good Shepherd, Jesus, that steps in! This man doesn’t know that what he needs is standing right in front of him! Jesus’ pursuing mercy seeks this lost sheep, the helpless man, and heals him. Oh, the lavish, generous, and powerful mercy of God!

I love how John then mentions, “Now that day was the Sabbath”. Almost like, this would have been a “normal” weekday miracle of Jesus, except He did it on the Sabbath. Why is this mentioned? Is it a problem? Well, it was for the Jewish leaders. Many very specific man-made laws had been put in place to ensure the keeping of the Old Testament commandments, including not carrying your mat on the Sabbath. This was so they would be righteous enough to be acceptable to God by obeying all the law.

We may ask, is mercy “work”? Is striving “working”? Apparently, yes to both but for different reasons. I just found out that Bethesda means mercy. Just love that. Jesus gives mercy to the invalid man. Jesus offers mercy to each of us. Yet the religious leaders overlook this powerful act of mercy, because they say He is breaking the Sabbath. When challenged by the Jewish leaders, Jesus says He is always working, just like His Father. He is always doing the “work” of mercy, upholding the universe by the word of His power (Hebrews 1:3), carrying out to completion the good work He started in His children (Philippians 1:6), working for the good of those who love Him (Romans 8:28). We are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works. So, is striving “working”? If you Google the definition of striving it says, “to make great efforts to achieve or obtain something”. How were the Jewish leaders striving? How do we strive? They were and we often do the same, making great efforts to obtain God’s acceptance or favor from a heart of self-righteousness. Jesus says in Mark 7:6-7, “This people honors Me with their lips, but their heart is far from Me; in vain do they worship Me, teaching as doctrines the commandments of men.” The irony is that Jewish leaders weren’t so concerned about the sixth commandment, “you shall not murder” as they were about keeping the fourth commandment. They try all the harder to kill Jesus, not just for breaking the Sabbath, but for making Himself equal with God. (John 5:18). Later in John 6:28-29 when asked, “What must we do to do the works God requires? Jesus answered, ‘The work of God is this: to believe in the One He has sent.’”

I’m so thankful and often need the reminder that Jesus has done the work for me. I can rest. I can stop striving and relying on my own works. It is finished. While God created us for work, we are not to rely on our work for our righteousness. It’s so subtle. We rely on God’s work in Jesus Christ, His finished "work" of the cross. We can rest in His mercy and grace and live in the good works He has prepared for us:

Did we in our own strength confide, Our striving would be losing;
Were not the right Man on our side, The Man of God’s own choosing… Jesus!

Faith IS Weakness

Pete Hatton — Fri, 22 Nov 2024 :00 -0500

If you were about to announce to the world that you were the Messiah, wouldn’t you do something huge? Something that gets the attention of the world announcing – “The Messiah is here, and now get ready.” But with Jesus the true Messiah, for the first two miracles, there was no Divine catastrophic event or overthrow of earthly powers – just two subtle miracles that only a few people saw! Jesus’ first sign was at a wedding, and the second sign in John 4:46-54 is almost at a funeral.

Both signs occur in Cana, and notice John calls them signs not miracles, because a sign is a miracle with a message. The signs that John gives us in his gospel are for the purpose of causing us to believe in Jesus so that we find life IN Jesus (John 20:30-31). So, the signs are not just a display of Jesus’ power, they point beyond the miracle to who Jesus is and what He came to do.

To see it, let’s set the scene – We have an unnamed man whose son has fallen gravely ill. He hears that Jesus is in Cana, so he travels 25 miles from Capernaum to Cana. When he finds Jesus, he requests that “Jesus go with him to see his son and heal him, for he was at the point of death”. This man is desperate, he’s at the end of his rope because his son is dying. This man is powerless and helpless to do anything to heal his son, but somehow, he hears about Jesus. We don’t know what he knows about Jesus, we can only assume word is spreading about Jesus being a miracle worker, and this man thinks, “Maybe Jesus can heal my son.”

Jesus’ response is interesting and telling, because it reveals the human condition. Jesus said to him, “Unless you (y’all plural) see signs and wonders you (y’all) will not believe.” Isn’t that so true of us? Everyone has faith! Everybody believes and trusts in something. The issue is not the amount of our faith, it is the object of our faith. Is the object worthy of our faith? Jesus knows our weakness and frailty, He knows we believe more in what we can see than in what God says! For us, we think what we see is more real and true than what God says. We base truth and reality on our feelings, our circumstances, and what we think. We conclude these are more real and true than what God says.

This man is no different; he thinks Jesus has to be with him and his son in order for Jesus to heal him. But that is not true! Jesus simply says, “Go; your son will live.” And what is amazing is that John tells us, “The man believed the word that Jesus spoke to him and went on his way. And as he was going down, his servants met him and told him that his son was recovering. So he asked them the hour the fever left him. The father knew that was the hour when Jesus said to him, ‘Your son will live’. And he himself believed, and all of his household. This was now the second sign that Jesus did when He had come from Judea to Galilee.”

This man starts off with little faith, which grows after he finds out his son was healed at the exact same hour Jesus said, “Go your son will live.” He went from trusting that Jesus is a miracle worker to trusting that Jesus is the Messiah come to save His people. He went from trusting in what Jesus can DO – to trusting in WHO Jesus is.

So, what is the message of this miracle? What is this sign pointing to? It is not the amount or quality of our faith that saves us – It is the object of our faith who saves us! The man’s son was healed not because of the quality of his faith, but by the power of the One who spoke the word. The power of Jesus is that He doesn’t have to be physically present to heal this man’s son. He can simply just speak his healing into existence by the power of His word.

Which raises the question, what is saving faith? Faith is a nobody that trusts in Somebody. Saving faith is WEAKNESS trusting in the STRENGTH of somebody else to save me. This sign shows us Jesus doesn’t just want to heal this man’s son physically. He wants to save this man’s entire household spiritually so they can find true life in Him!! Jesus is more than a miracle worker – He is the Messiah come to save a people for Himself. This man’s son was saved, because God lost His on the cross to save you! So the only question to leave you with is this – Are you seeking a miracle worker, or are you seeking the only One who has life, and who can give you life, by giving up His?

Encountering the Savior

Amy Tassos — Fri, 15 Nov 2024 :00 -0500

She came into the PCPC Bookstore looking for a children’s book to gift. While I was showing her options, she offered that she was no longer attending our church. She said she felt unknown in our big church. She quickly added that God had graciously led her to a much smaller church where she feels known by members of all ages. Being known. Is that not what we all want? Not just to be known, but to be known and loved?

When we discover that we are known by the One who holds the universe in His hands and yet also cares about the minute details of our lives, we want to invite others to be known by Him as well. The woman at the well ran off proclaiming, “Come see a Man who told me all that I ever did. Can this be the Christ?” Their exchange was not simply information. The Man at the well could have gathered His intel about her from the market or the local bar, but this Man, Jesus, God incarnate, did not only have facts about her, He knew her to the depth of her soul. He knew her better than she knew herself. He knew that she was perpetually thirsty – thirsty for something that her five marriages and her current relationship were not satisfying. His pointed question revealed that they both knew she was just surviving.

The same thing happened when Jesus called His disciples. Remember, back in the first chapter of John, when Jesus called Nathanael. “How do You know me?” Nathanael asked. “Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you,” Jesus answered (John 1:48). An internal exchange happened that an outside observer would not see, yet Nathanael knew instantly that Jesus was the Son of God.

Jesus sees us, past, present, and future. He sees deep into our souls, even where we cannot see. Where we are deceived by our own heart, He is not.

The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it? I the Lord search the heart and test the mind to give every man according to his ways, according to the fruit of his deeds (Jeremiah 17:9-10).

When we encounter Him, the power of His Spirit communicates to us that He knows us, and He knows all of it. He didn’t miss those thoughts, those words, or those actions we hope the rest of the world will never know about. We know He knows them, and yet, we also know He is inviting us to come to Him. Then, we begin, by the power of His Holy Spirit to want to know Him, to want more of that deep connection we just had, more of being seen and known.

Remember back to John chapter one with me, again. “Life was in Him and that life was the light of men” (John 1:4). Jesus turns the light on for us! Our souls live with an emptiness, a loneliness, a wandering, and a sense of surviving until He turns the light on for us. It is only in the light of Christ that life becomes meaningful, purposeful, and clear.

I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; I will remove your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. I will place My Spirit within you and cause you to follow My statutes and carefully observe My ordinances (Ezekiel 36:26-27).

My Dad’s recent conversion is a perfect example that having the eyes of our heart opened to Jesus has nothing to do with our own merit, our own ability, or our own terms. Dad was dead. He wasn’t just dead in his trespasses and sins, as Colossians 2:13 reminds us. Dad was lying on the operating table in Houston, and he was a Code Blue, a dead man. He refers to it as “when he met Jesus.” I asked him to tell me about it and he said, “I could not see. I could not hear. Yet, all at once, I knew I was a very bad man.” Dead men (and women) are Jesus’s specialty. We are why He came. He makes us to be born again. He gives us living water. He is the Savior of the World, the only One who can turn the light on for us.

If You Knew Who It Is

Neatice Warner — Fri, 08 Nov 2024 :00 -0500

The noonday sun was hot, and the empty water jar pressed against the woman’s hip as she approached the well. She walked toward it as she had almost every day for many years, always hoping no one would be there. But her heart seemed to drop into her stomach when she saw a Man sitting on the rock border of the well—and, by His looks and clothing—a Jew! But she had to have water, so she proceeded as quickly as she could, glancing at Him only from the corners of her eyes.

But He looked back at her—and shocked her by asking for a drink of water! She couldn’t hold her astonishment back: “How is it that You, a Jew, ask for a drink from me, a woman of Samaria?”

Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give Me a drink,’ you would have asked Him and He would have given you living water.’”

Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman has been examined and discussed since John’s gospel first came into the hands of Christians. Interpreters find here God’s sovereignty in sending His Son to speak with this woman, a picture of eternal life in overflowing, renewing water, the compassion of Jesus and His outreach to all people, the reality of spiritual worship, and much more.

It’s all there in awesome richness. But the heart of this narrative may be Jesus’ first statement to the Samaritan woman. He had asked her for the gift of a drink of water from the well; and then He introduced her to what He called the gift of God—new, ever-renewing and transforming life—what He called “living water.” There at the well, she would learn who will give that life to her—the Promised One, the Son of God, the Savior of all people everywhere who believe in Him.

Today Jesus’ words should confront even us who trust Christ as Savior, who have received eternal life by His Spirit. “If you knew who it is …you would have asked Him and He would have given you living water.”

We as Christ-followers often forget, and certainly haven’t yet learned, all He really is, and all the power and newness He will pour out into our lives.

If today is a stable, happy day, with your family content and well, with occupations before you that give you satisfaction, have you remembered Who it is that chose and provided these blessings?

Or, are you dissatisfied today, with your home, work, or relationships? Remember your Sovereign God, who gives everything, including peace and contentment, in love and compassion. Will He give all you want? Perhaps, or perhaps not, but He Who made new life possible will refresh vitality deep inside you. He gives you the desires of your heart, as His Spirit conforms your heart and mind to His.

Are you grieving, or sick, or do you have someone close to you who is? He cares, profoundly. He brings the water of life, refreshing and strengthening. The strength He gives is not always physical healing, but it comes from His grace and is as firm as granite.

Do you fear your future or the future of our society and culture? Learn who speaks to you—the Shepherd Ruler, who loves you fiercely. He directs His powerful thoughts toward you.

Jesus told the well-woman, “I who speak to you am He.” He speaks to you; He is for you.

Pride and Joy

Riley Mitchell — Fri, 01 Nov 2024 :00 -0500

John’s disciples are tempted to see Jesus’ baptismal ministry as a rival to John’s. Their successful ministerial careers are puffing them up, so when they see someone else’s success, they feel threatened. So, they tell John, “Look, [Jesus] is baptizing, and all are going to Him” (v. 26). John perceives what is going on and is very concerned. He says, “A person cannot receive even one thing unless it is given him from heaven” (v.27), and “He must increase but I must decrease” (v. 30). This teaches us two things: everything is a gift from God, which shatters our pride, and Jesus is the greatest gift of all, which fills us with joy.

A person cannot receive even one thing unless it is given him from heaven. The first problem John sees in his disciples is pride. They think they earned a successful ministry, so John reminds them that everything, whether a successful ministry, career, or family is a gift from God; we did not earn it. When you become a Christian, you realize that you didn’t really find God; God found you. You realize that He was the one pursuing you the whole time, not the other way around. Shortly after that, you realize that not just your faith, but everything you thought you had achieved in life was really a gift, not a result of hard work. Maybe you were proud of your wealth or your humble upbringing, and you thought, “I earned that; I worked hard for that,” but when you become a Christian you realize that even though you worked hard, God was the One who gave you that potential in the first place. God is the One who gave you a family that valued hard work, or, if not, providentially ordered your life circumstances so that you learned that lesson and had the opportunities to succeed. Even John’s disciples only had a ministry because the Christ appeared when they were alive to see it. Hear Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 4:7: “What do you have that you did not receive? If then you received it, why do you boast as if you did not receive it?”

But maybe you don’t have many successes. Maybe you even resent people who have more than you, or maybe you feel cheated. Remember Jesus, who, being the only One to ever live a perfect life, got the most unfair deal imaginable. But He did it “for the joy set before Him” (Hebrews 12:2), and you were the joy set before Him! For He did it to “bring many sons to glory” (Hebrews 2:10) through faith in His name. Remember that “we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses” (Hebrews 4:15). Remember that God is our loving Father, who uses even our failures and suffering to bring us to faith in Him and to strengthen our faith in Him, which gives us the greatest joy of all. So whether you are high or low, successful or a loser, if you are a Christian, you have the greatest gift of all. It is only because, like Paul, you were blinded by grace (Acts 9:3), “called by His grace” (Gal. 1:15), “granted repentance that leads to life” (Acts 11:18), and because “the Lord opened [your] heart” to believe (Acts 16:14). All is from God, even faith itself.

He must increase but I must decrease. The second problem John sees in his disciples is actually what he doesn’t see—joy. John’s disciples have no joy because, as their success puffs them up, their vision of Jesus gets smaller and smaller. They’ve been so distracted by success and blinded by pride, that they missed Jesus, the One they were waiting for. John tells his disciples that it was never about success, but Jesus, our Bridegroom, and One True Love—"Therefore this joy of mine is now complete” (v. 29). When you become a Christian, you realize that all your old loves, the things you looked to for hope and happiness, significance and security, never really satisfied the longings of your heart because life was never about those things. When you put your faith in Jesus, all those things become so little in comparison to your newfound love for Him that they become as nothing at all. You learn, like Paul, to “count everything as loss for the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. . . and [to] be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ” (Philippians 3:8-9). When you become a Christian, you immediately receive the greatest gift of all—Christ Jesus your Lord and Bridegroom. And as you behold Him you “rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory” (1 Peter 1:8): “He must increase, but I must decrease.”

Can I Take Your Arm?

Maggie Wills — Fri, 25 Oct 2024 :00 -0500

I try very hard in my daily life not to fall down, and I maintain a solid, though not perfect, track record. Entering dark rooms puts this precious track record at risk. As a partially sighted person, I find that any unfamiliar room has its risks. But the dark or dimly lit room feels like it’s out to get me. My anxious mind races until I get where I need to be in a dark room. As a child, this posed less of a problem. Going into the movie theater after the movie starts? Going to church after the lights dimmed for worship? That’s scary, but I simply grabbed Mom or Dad’s hand. Now, the stress is higher as an adult. Going to a concert, one of my favorite activities, and relying only on myself stresses me. The older I get, the harder the darkness becomes to navigate.

In his Gospel, the Apostle John often uses light as a synonym for Jesus. In these verses, the light and darkness illustrate the verdict that comes for those who reject Jesus. John presents two paths: the dark path that hates the light and the path in the light. The haters of the light find themselves in shame and condemned, while the lovers of the light find themselves "exposed" and "in God."

John connects the dark to practicing evil deeds. God separates Himself from this darkness and condemns evil. He does not leave the world He loves without a way back to Him. Like a lighthouse guiding His people home, He shines a light into the darkness. Now, the darkness exists for those who hate the light that would bring them to safety. Avoiding the light involves duplicity. An evildoer committed to his or her ways of evil avoids the light. As John says, he or she avoids the light “lest his deeds should be exposed.” John implies the shame and fear that come with unexposed evil. The world lies in darkness, condemned already. Those continuing in their evil deeds accept the verdict of condemnation. The consequence of rejecting God’s provided light proves dire.

The lover of the light walks a different path. Riding down any given road where I grew up in Georgia, tall pine trees would rise on every side obstructing any view beyond their leaves. But here in Texas, only open sky stretches out. Even though sunsets are prettier here in Texas, the openness makes me feel exposed at times. Walking in the light entails exposure. God shines His ray, Jesus, and deeds are exposed. For those who accept the light of Jesus let God see them and save them from their deeds. They are now found in Him. Rather than shame in darkness, deeds become clear and plain. Known and exposed. John says a believer “does the truth and comes to the light.” Unlike those in darkness, who continuously practice evil and run for fear of exposure, believers in the light approach the truth of God’s rescue and receive the gift of Jesus. In the light, the believers expose their deeds without lasting fear and shame. The reason they can do this is that they are now “in God,” relying fully on Him to save them. God sees Jesus when He looks at them. The exposing light becomes a comfort.

Last year I decided to attend a concert. I knew I would feel the familiar clenching anxiety of navigating darkness. But, dreading this feeling, I did something new. I told my friend attending with me that I felt a bit of stress. I asked her to keep an eye on me and if she’d allow me to grab her arm while walking through the crowds if needed. I felt humiliated asking her for this, but after asking, I instantly felt my body’s tension ease. Exposing this weakness released some of my fear. After asking for help, I knew someone would watch out for me, help me navigate through the darkness, and keep my falling-over record clean.

As believers, we do not need to fear the dark, because God shines His light our way. We reflect this light when we make plain our deeds, including our weaknesses and struggles, to Jesus and to His Church. When we do this, the shadows shrink. The rooms become brighter.

Being Born Again

Jack Bennington — Fri, 18 Oct 2024 :00 -0500

It was the summer of 2008. I was nine years old attending Camp Siloam with my church in Siloam Springs, Arkansas. During each evening at camp, there was a time of worship where all of the groups would gather together. Towards the end of every worship time, they had a time of response for us. I had no idea what I was supposed to be responding to if I’m being honest. I remember vividly the putt-putt course, the cafeteria that gave us pizza for lunch AND dinner, and the sheer number of people there doing all the same things as us, and I was both excited and nervous for the week. These were probably the things going through my head until I watched my friend, Nick, step out from the pew and go down to the front and give his life to Jesus. All of our church leaders on the trip made this a great time of celebration, and I didn’t really know why.

The whole next day, I couldn’t help but think of that moment and that we would be having another worship time in just a few hours. I couldn’t even put into words what I was feeling, but I knew that this was really getting at me. “Why did he do that? Do I need to do the same thing? I know Jesus. Am I not already a Christian?” These were a few of the questions that were rushing through my mind as the evening came. We worshiped, heard a message preached, and then… the time to respond. I stepped out from the pew, went down to the front where my friend’s dad was waiting for anyone from our group to come forward, and I told him that I wanted to give my life to Jesus.

For years, I thought that this was a “boring” or “mundane” conversion experience. It wasn’t until one Sunday, several years later when I was in high school, that our pastor told us his conversion story. It was the exact same as mine, however, he recounted it with such joy and thankfulness. It was far from boring. I began to realize how much I had been downplaying God’s grace to me on that hot summer day in Arkansas as Pastor Lee told us his story.

What is true from that day is this: God, in His great grace, called me to Himself. I cannot give an analytical explanation of that moment other than the fact that the Holy Spirit moved within me to hear God’s voice and open the door for Him to come into me and dine with me (Revelation 3:20). As John Murray puts it in Redemption Accomplished and Applied, “We do not have spiritual perception of the kingdom of God nor do we enter into it because we are willed to or decided to. If this privilege is ours it is because the Holy Spirit willed it and here all rests upon the Holy Spirit’s decision and action” (pg.103). “The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit” (John 3:8). Because of that, thanks be to God.

I think about that day at camp now with joyful tears as I’m able to take a step back and see the glorious gift that was given to me. The God of the universe came down in the incarnation, died on the cross, and rose again defeating death. He sent the third person of the Triune God, the Holy Spirit, to bring helpless kids like myself to know Him and feast in the house of the Lord forever. With the rest of the people of God, I can look at this conversation Jesus had with Nicodemus and give thanks to the Lord for the eternal hope that we live in. By the grace of God alone, I can say with confidence the lyrics of Anne Steele’s Dear Refuge of My Weary Soul, “Yet gracious God, where shall I flee? Thou art my only trust.”

Lessons from the Diamond and the Temple

Kevin Joseph — Fri, 11 Oct 2024 :00 -0500

I recently reconnected with an old Japanese teammate from my professional baseball days, So Taguchi. Recounting his difficulty with the English language, So reminded me of one particularly amusing mix-up. One day our manager, affectionately nicknamed “Chief,” called an important team meeting and announced with a typical stern expression, “This is a REALLY important stretch of games!” My Japanese teammate, eager to execute his manager’s advice, heard, “This is REALLY important to stretch at games!” Before every single game for the next several weeks, So engaged in a prolonged vigorous stretching routine, all the while wondering why his teammates weren’t heeding their manager’s counsel. So Taguchi basically understood each of the manager’s words, but he completely missed the meaning of his message. After weeks of lonely stretching, my teammate was perhaps wondering, “Was Chief really talking about stretching?”

Understanding words but missing the message is a danger not just in the world of cross-cultural baseball, but in our spiritual lives as well. The Gospel of John’s stated purpose is “that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in His name” (John 20:31). Throughout the Gospel, Jesus uses various symbols pointing people to faith but leaving many wondering, “Was Jesus really talking about birth, water, bread, etc..?”

The story of Jesus cleansing the temple is case in point. This is a story of vigorous activity in a house of worship, activity seemingly centered upon obedience to God’s explicit commands (Lev. 1-5). Those selling oxen, sheep, and pigeons were conveniently providing worshipers the animals God’s law prescribed for sacrifice. The money changers allowed pilgrims who had traveled great distances to convert their money to the proper currency.

However, by centering this activity within the temple itself, these businessmen had turned what was intended to be a place of prayer and worship into a place of commerce, rightly incurring Jesus’ zealous opposition. Jesus drove them all out of the temple with a whip of cords, pouring out coin boxes and turning over tables in the process. He proclaimed, “Take these things away; do not make My Father’s house a house of trade” (v16). The sale of animals for sacrifice and the exchange of money were temple activities that completely missed the meaning of God’s commands.

Challenged by the Jews to produce a sign proving His authority to perform this temple cleansing, Jesus responded, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” Since the action in this story occurred in the temple, it’s not surprising to learn that the Jews understood “this temple” to refer to the surrounding edifice, the construction of which had already surpassed four decades (v20). The narrator clarifies that Jesus was speaking about “the temple of His body” (v21). In other words, the sign that Jesus would produce is His impending death and resurrection after three days.

This shift of focus in the story from the physical temple to Jesus Christ Himself has great significance. Jesus was One greater than the temple (Matt. 12:6). He Himself would be the center of worship through His coming and sacrifice. God’s presence among His people would be through Christ, not a physical building in Jerusalem. Since the temple ultimately pointed to Jesus, He should be the object of our faith and focus.

Like the businessmen in the temple or my Japanese teammate, there’s a danger of robust undertakings that completely miss the point. Even today, we can engage in vigorous religious activity that ultimately is not centered upon a simple faith in the finished work of a loving Savior. As we engage in Christian worship and service this week let us search our hearts and ask ourselves, “Is this activity really about Jesus?”

The Wedding and the Wine

Robby Higginbottom — Fri, 04 Oct 2024 :00 -0500

As a pastor, I have the unique privilege of spending significant time with a bride and groom in the months before their wedding. It’s always a season of great preparation and greater anticipation. When the wedding weekend arrives, the couple experiences an incomparable rush of joy. The bride glows, and the groom has a twinkle in his eye. The time has finally come. In the best sense, it’s time to party.

Most of us love weddings, but do we realize how much God loves weddings? When we zoom out on the story of Scripture, we see a marital thread that the Lord is weaving from Genesis to Revelation. After Creation, Genesis 2 invites us to witness the wedding of Adam and Eve. In their union, Adam and Eve enjoy the longing of every human heart, to be fully known and fully loved (Genesis 2:24-25). At the end of Revelation, what future glory does God invite us to anticipate? Nothing less than the Marriage Supper of the Lamb (Revelation 19) and God Himself being united and dwelling with His people forever (Revelation 21).

In between these weddings that bookend Scripture, we’re left asking, “How will God be reunited with His people?” We’ve turned our backs on the Lover of our soul, and our infidelity has brought devastation to every relationship. The prophets often prosecute God’s case like lawyers representing a heart-broken husband crushed by his spouse’s betrayal (Jeremiah 2-3, Hosea). Our Maker declares Himself our Husband (Isaiah 54:5), but we won’t stop running after other lovers. God gives us marriage as a picture of His desire to be united with us, but we seem to have broken the engagement. The wedding’s off, right?

If we think it’s random that Jesus would perform His first “sign” at a wedding (John 2:11), maybe we’ve missed the previous episodes in this drama. On this best day in their life, the bride and groom in Cana have no idea that the true Bridegroom walks among them. They’re hoping for a great party with food and drink and dancing, but they don’t realize that the Bread of Life stands in their midst. And then the wine runs out. The bride and groom are racing toward a full-blown wedding crisis, and Jesus’ mother knows it. Mary shares the problem with Jesus, and He responds, “Woman, what does this have to do with Me? My hour has not yet come.”

I wish we could hear Jesus’ tone or see His expression when He responds this way. But we know He didn’t sin. He isn’t disrespectful or rude, and He quickly gets to work. He repurposed massive jars used for ritual cleansing. After having them filled with water, Jesus miraculously turns that water into some of the best wine humans ever tasted. In terms of the drink menu, Jesus saves the best for last, and in doing so, He saves the day for the bride and groom. But why? Saving newlyweds from embarrassment is a worthy cause, but certainly a “sign” means more than this. The beginning of Jesus’ ministry is like the arrival of His wedding weekend. He is the true Bridegroom, and His people—you and I—are the bride. When Mary tries to involve Him in the wine problem, I picture Jesus as the Bridegroom…with a smile on His face and a twinkle in His eye. It’s true: in the ultimate sense, His “hour” has not yet come, for He came ultimately to die and rise again. But in another sense, the time has finally come, the Kingdom of God is at hand, and we should all repent and believe in the good news (Mark 1:15). Jesus is the Word who came to reveal God to us (John 1:14-18), the Lamb who came to take away our sins (John 1:29), and the Bridegroom who came to win us.

Brothers and sisters, do we glow with the wonder of being engaged to the Lord? When the wine of this life inevitably runs out, do we turn to the only One who can wash us clean and satisfy us forever? We should rejoice in our union with our Bridegroom, even as we wait for the great Day that is coming. On that day, it will truly be time to party, because Jesus is saving the best for last.

The God Who Sees

Reynolds Walker — Fri, 27 Sep 2024 :00 -0500

The Lord God Almighty, the maker of the heavens and the earth and all things, the one who “upholds the universe by the word of His power,” sees you (Hebrews 1:3).

To some, the reality that God sees us might prove unsettling, if we are well acquainted with and honest about our sin, short-comings, and failures. For those who are not in Christ, this is indeed a sobering reminder: “no creature is hidden from His sight, but all are naked and exposed to the eyes of Him to whom we must give account” (Hebrews 4:13). However, as children of the King, this response need not, and should not, be our response. By grace and through faith we are united to Christ and reconciled to God, adopted into His family, the family of light (Romans 6:5; 5:10)! In fact, if we rightly understand God’s character, and His disposition toward us as His beloved sons and daughters, the reality that He sees us proves a blessed comfort and a cause for rejoicing.

This is the truth that shocked Nathanael and convinced him of Jesus’s identity as the Son of God, the King of Israel. He was seen by Jesus before Nathanael even knew Him. But Christ not only saw these men that would become His disciples, He knew them and called them. Praise be to God that He not only sees us but knows and calls us. God is no passive, distant observer; though He be the King of the universe, He condescends to deal intimately and intentionally with each of His beloved children.

When addressing John’s disciples, Christ does not respond with simple, factual information. He responds with an invitation. He beckons them: “Come and you will see.” Often, when we question God, desiring to know the “what,” “where,” “why,” or “how” of His will, He answers us with a relational response. Rather than simply answering the question we think we want to know, He invites us to walk with Him, to “come and see.” How often do we neglect to follow Christ’s call in an area of our life for lack of the information we think we need? He is faithful. And He beckons us to follow Him. Though we tend to tarry, as C.S. Lewis says, Christ graciously calls us to “come further up, come further in,” always further up and further into Himself. In light of Jesus’s call, the disciples would learn and experience many things, but chiefly, they would learn about and experience life with Christ Himself, because it was to Him that He was calling them.

In light of Christ’s call on our lives, we often overcomplicate evangelism. We tend to neglect Christ and focus on ourselves and what we think we can do. We get caught up in strategies and methods, conversational tactics and approaches, but forget the beautiful simplicity of Christ’s exhortation: “Come and see.” Seeking to be faithful stewards of the minds and opportunities God has given us by thinking critically about the intricacies and implications of God’s missional call on our lives is important. But along with the potentially complex outworkings of faithful stewardship, we must remember that, fundamentally, evangelism proves as simple as proclaiming: “Behold, the Lamb of God,” “We have found the Messiah,” or “Come and see.” In response to Nathanael’s question, Philip says: “Come and see.” In the face of others’ doubts and objections, as those who have encountered the living God, who have tasted and seen that He is good, we must only exhort others: “Come and see.”

The high King of heaven sees you, knows you, loves you, and invites you to “come and see,” not once but continually, not only individually but corporately. And it is good for us to remember Christ’s promise to Nathanael: “You will see greater things than these.” We are blessed beyond measure to live in light of the revelation of Jesus Christ, in light of His call on us, both individually and corporately, as His Church. We have witnessed His glory and grace, His kindness and power, and we will see more still. Let us long and pray for His return, all the while beckoning others to “come and see!”

May the Lord bless you and keep you.

Behold the Love of God

Amy Tassos — Fri, 20 Sep 2024 :00 -0500

My penchant for efficiency got the better of me again today. It was raining, so the entire school drop-off was moved under the one port cochere. Though there were two lines, the cars still wrapped around the school and out onto the major thoroughfare. The parent in front of me decided it was a good time to get a conference in with the teacher directing the car line. I was about to lose my mind. Finally, I was directed to pull forward. Knowing their system could run much more efficiently by using the second overhang, I pulled through, past the port cochere, allowing the parents behind me to pull forward, and I let my child out at the unsupervised second overhang. “Hurry! Hustle up! There are cars behind us!” I urge my special needs child as she, like all her peers, moves at the pace of a sloth to exit the car. For all my planning, speed and efficiency are not even a possibility for these children. In my haste and frustration (and arrogance), I did not get to pray a blessing over my child or say, “I love you. Make it a great day!” In my desire to get the job done, I lost my focus on what is most important. I missed the chance to love, not just my daughter but the teachers and the other parents. I see it clearly now. God is using another ordinary moment to remake me. Out of a deep love to rescue me, and you, because we could not, cannot, rescue ourselves, God sent His Son.

Behold the Lamb of God.

God was in no hurry when He sent Jesus. I am certain, that if I were in charge, I would have sent Him as an adult. That would have been far more efficient than sending an infant who would take time to grow up. In His infinite wisdom, that’s not how God planned it. In fact, Scripture tells us that Jesus, “grew in wisdom” (Luke 2:52) and that He “learned obedience” (Hebrews 5:8). He also grew in love – in the Father’s love for Him. What Jesus had to do could not have been motivated by mere obedience.

The Apostles’ accounts of Jesus’s baptism are very similar, yet Matthew records a part of Jesus’s baptism that John does not:

And when Jesus was baptized, immediately He went up from the water, and behold, the heavens were opened to Him, and He saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming to rest on Him; and behold, a voice from heaven said, “This is My beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:16-17).

The love of the Father and compassion for His people motivated the sacrifice of our Savior.

Behold the Lamb of God.

The Israelites standing beside the Jordan would have heard the phrase, Lamb of God, differently than we do. They knew God was sending the Messiah for their collective and historical sin, their waywardness, and their disobedience. They knew Isaiah’s prophecy and understood it in the context of their ritual sacrifices. Though centuries separate us, our desire to have life on our own terms, to organize our days at our pleasing, are a reminder that we are no more advanced in our souls than they were. We want what we want when we want it.

All we like sheep have gone astray;
we have turned—everyone—to his own way;
and the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.
He was oppressed, and He was afflicted, yet He opened not His mouth;
like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so He opened not His mouth (Isaiah 53:6-7).

Behold the Lamb of God.

Because of the sacrifice of the Lamb of God, the Spirit of God lives in me, and because I know His love for me, I can draw near to Him, recognize my sin, repent of my sin, find forgiveness, and be made new.

Behold the LOVE of God.

He Must Increase, but I Must Decrease

Nathan Davy — Fri, 13 Sep 2024 :00 -0500

John the Baptist came preaching in the wilderness to point the way to Jesus, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins (Mark 1:4, Matthew 3:2, Luke 3:4). When Jerusalem and all Judea and all the region about the Jordan were going out to him, they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins (Matthew 3:5-6). When the Pharisees and Sadducees came, he called them a brood of vipers, and said, “Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?” (Matthew 3:7, Luke 3:7). The Pharisees then asked him, as we read in this week’s passage, “Who are you?” John answered that he was not the Christ, nor Elijah, nor “the prophet,” but rather the voice of one preparing the way of the Lord.

One thing in particular stands out: John’s humility of identity. John the Baptist said that in relation to Jesus, he himself was so lowly that he considered himself unworthy of performing the lowest service of the low for him, that of untying a sandal strap on a dirty, dusty foot. The Pharisees, asking him, “Who do you think you are, telling everyone to repent?” had from him the response, “I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness.” John does not consider himself someone important, just a voice to prepare the way of the Lord. Later in the Gospel of John (3:30), John the Baptist says about Jesus and himself, “He must increase, but I must decrease.”

John conceives of himself as a non-entity. Jesus’s statements about John, though, are the opposite! “Truly, I say to you, among those born of women there has arisen no one greater than John the Baptist. Yet the one who is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he…For all the Prophets and the Law prophesied until John, and if you are willing to accept it, he is Elijah who is to come” (Matthew 11:11, 13-14). As Jesus says to his disciples later in Gospel of Matthew, “The greatest among you shall be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted” (Matthew 23:11). Jesus’s words about John, though, seem to pose a problem for us – John says clearly, “I am not Elijah” and Jesus says, “John is Elijah.” What does this mean? Besides the question, “Actually how could John the Baptist be Elijah?” did Jesus and John the Baptist contradict each other?

To answer this, we have to understand what the Pharisees’ delegation meant when they asked John if he was Elijah, or “the prophet.” They had in mind two Old Testament passages. The first is Malachi 4:5-6:

“Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the great and awesome day of the Lord comes. And he will turn the hearts of fathers to their children and the hearts of children to their fathers, lest I come and strike the land with a decree of utter destruction” (Malachi 4:5-6).

This passage from Malachi was actually referenced even earlier regarding John the Baptist: when the angel of the Lord visited Zechariah, he said, “And he will turn many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God, and he will go before Him in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, to make ready for the Lord a people prepared” (Luke 1:16-17). Clearly, then, John the Baptist was the Elijah of Malachi’s prophecy. Why, then, does John say that he is not? It seems that the Jews of the time expected a literal return of Elijah in the flesh (check your commentary of choice – I referred to J. C. Ryle’s Expository Thoughts on John). Elijah did not die but was taken up into heaven by chariots of fire, and the literal interpretation of this passage is that Elijah himself will come back before the final judgment. John therefore simply denies that he is Elijah returning literally and bodily.

When the Jews asked John if he was “the prophet,” they referred to a promise that God gave the people of Israel through Moses: “I will raise up for them a prophet like you from among their brothers. And I will put my words in his mouth, and he shall speak to them all that I command him” (Deuteronomy 18:18). Like the return Elijah, the Jews also expected the coming of this foretold “prophet like Moses.” Christians now see this as a reference to Christ. Stephen quotes this passage in his speech to the Jews before his martyrdom, and John the Gospel writer refers to “the Prophet” again in John 6:14 and 7:40 in connection with Jesus. John the Baptist again told the Jews that he was not that person – the prophet like Moses.

John the Baptist’s mission was not to claim self-importance. About himself, he said, “I am a voice.” He could have told the Pharisees, “Well, I’m not literally Elijah, but I’ve come in the spirit and power of Elijah!” But he does not. John simply says, “There’s another coming. Wait for Him. Repent of your sins, and be ready.” John had a mind and heart only for Christ. If we heed the Baptist’s call, if we confess our sins, if we humble ourselves in the sight of the Lord and “know nothing but Jesus Christ and Him crucified,” then He will lift us up.

The Word Became Flesh

Robby Higginbottom — Fri, 06 Sep 2024 :00 -0500

What word do we long to hear from God? If God would speak to us, what word would make the biggest difference? Would it be a word of guidance for a relationship, vocation, or decision? Or maybe a word of wisdom to know how to live in a certain situation? Would it be a word of affirmation that we’re on the right path? Or maybe a word of reassurance that God is in control? Would it be a word of comfort in the midst of suffering and grief? Most of us would love a word from God, and the Scriptures do speak into all these scenarios. But what if God has already spoken the definitive Word?

In our longing to receive some specific word from God, we may miss the awesome truth of John’s prologue. John tells us that our God is not simply the God who speaks words; our God is the Word. And wonder of wonders, the Word who was in the beginning, the Word who was with God, the Word who was God (John 1:1-2); the Word through whom all things were made (1:3), the Word in whom was life (1:4), the Word who was the true light (1:9)…became flesh and dwelt among us (1:14). If we are startled when the boss goes “undercover” to be among the employees, or when the athlete stops to spend time with the fans, how should we respond when we hear that God put on flesh and moved into our neighborhood?

In His days on Earth, Jesus would speak many words, but John wants us to marvel, not so much at the words spoken, but at the Word embodied. For a brief time, the Son of God walked among us. The disciples heard Him, saw Him, and touched Him (1 John 1:1). They could say, “We have seen His glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). If we ask, “What is God like?” the disciples respond, “Look at Jesus.” If we say, “I want a word from God,” John responds, “Jesus is the Word.” These are staggering claims that demand a response. The Incarnation begs the question, and each of us must answer: “Who is Jesus?”

What word do we long to hear from God? As we continue in the Gospel of John, let’s remember what John is offering us. He’s not writing simply to give us words to call upon in certain moments. He’s writing to point us to the Word who is our life in every moment. It’s not bad to want a word from God, but let’s not miss the Word of God. Jesus is the ultimate revelation of God, the Word who changes everything. May we believe that He is the Christ, the Son of God, and by believing may we have life in His name (John 20:31).

Benediction: A Short Story

Brett Bradshaw — Fri, 30 Aug 2024 :00 -0500

The Lord bless you and keep you;
the Lord make His face to shine upon you and be gracious to you;
the Lord lift up His countenance upon you and give you peace.
Numbers 6:24-26

I open my eyes. This dull gray light slipping through the window blinds is blurry to me. I reach over to the nightstand, feel about for my glasses, put them on. The room about me, my parent’s guestroom, is dark. Obviously, the sun is not up yet. My wife is asleep next to me. We were just visiting for the weekend. And I am awake.

Just yesterday there had been a partial solar eclipse. I ease out of bed and step lightly past the pack-n-play where our baby lays. I open the bedroom door, walk out, close it slowly behind me. My two big girls, though still little themselves, sleep in the bedroom opposite. Just yesterday everything had turned the shade of a charcoal sketch.

***

We had left Dallas early. The sun came up. Then, about mid-morning, everything edged toward dusk for a while. By the time we turned onto the dirt road, the sun was shining again. Our car rattled over the rock my father and grandfather had laid by tractor, building up the road. We drove past the pond, up the hill, curved right, came around a tall pine tree to the left, and down the hill beyond my grandparent’s house. The horse pasture was on our right. I was a boy the last time I saw horses there. I never asked what happened to them.

We came up another hill and parked in front of my parent’s house. The dogs were barking as usual. I waited for my mother. She would come out of the house onto the porch, walk over just smiling and smiling, and give us big hugs. But she didn’t. We got out of the car and went inside the house. Hello. Lunch was on the stove, the range fan humming. Hello! Nothing.

I walked back outside. There on the hill across the way, red oak trees here and there, is the house I grew up in. My sister and her family live there now. A pine plantation, rows of middling loblolly trees, hem the house in from the back. I looked and didn’t see anyone. Across the hay pasture and up to my grandparent’s house: nobody. I stood there on the front porch. I thought to myself. Something is wrong.

I heard the tires crumbling rock first. A yellow jeep drove fast down the road. It was my aunt, my father’s oldest sister. She doesn’t drive that fast, I thought to myself. The jeep turned in at my grandparent’s house. No lights flashed. No siren blared. An ambulance pulled out from behind the house. It drove up the road and disappeared around the bend.

When my mother returned, she told me PawPaw had fallen. Maybe a stroke, I don’t know, she told me. They had found him on the floor in the doorway to his shop behind the house. His face drooped to one side. He was conscious, still able to talk, a bit slurred. They were taking him to the hospital in town.

After this, I don’t know how long it was; I can’t remember. Not long. All I know is that I was driving to the hospital alone. My mother had gone ahead of me. My father was stuck on a job over an hour away from town. My phone dinged. It was lying there in the console. The screen lit up. I glanced down. Read the message. Mom Cell: “He is gone.”

***

I take off my glasses, put in contacts, dress, and step outside on the back porch. Down the hill, across the creek bottom, a line of tall shadows can be made out dimly as woods. The air is light and crisp. The lingering summer heat has lifted. The humidity has passed away. It is October in East Texas. Joy comes with the morning. I do not feel it.

I start off down the hill. Heavy dew gathers on my boots, collecting sandy loam, wild seeds, and grass stems. I reach the foot of the hill and walk onto a mowed path, headed to the woods. The light in the bottom is shy of a bruise. I stop and look back up the hill from where I have come. There is my parent’s house. No lights are on. It is silent. Over there is the house I grew up in. In-between and farther back is MeMaw and PawPaw’s house. No. What do I call it now? MeMaw’s house? I turn and keep walking.

Somewhere nearby, across the creek, a crow calls out. But my ear is elsewhere. I am listening for the pop-pop-pop of a nail gun, the shrill buzzing of a table saw, the low idling of a tractor. My grandfather would not be up working this early. I know. He is gone. I know that. I still listen for him.

Nearing the pond, left low and muddy from a long summer drought, I see two white tail deer, watching near the edge of the woods. They stand very still and erect above the tall grass. A thin veil of white mist filters the air. I walk closer. How close can I get? The deer slip into the woods and disappear. Everywhere I look there is this deeply known thing of remembering.

Past the pond now and into the woods, I see the deer stand where I have hunted. I have sat there on a fall morning—the leaves of the trees turning rust, oxblood, and gold—and watched dove alight on the dewy grass, wood ducks fly over, sparrows and wrens flit branch to branch. I have seen the invisible become visible: one moment the thin, quiet trees, the next, standing there among them, a white tail buck. I have listened to the chorus of bird song and breathed the freshest air, free of charge. I have sat there in the dark beside my grandfather, puffing chilled breath, no words said, no words needing to be said, together, watching for first light.

I walk beyond the path and into a clearing. I step under the outstretched limbs of an old willow oak. Enormous roots hulk out the ground, disappear. I walk close enough to touch the dark gray bark, turning black here and there, hard and smooth, with narrow ridges. I stretch my arms out wide, measuring the trembling rings, rippling outward, marking all the years, hidden within this wood. The willow oak reaches as wide as my left hand is from the right.

***

What I remember most, I think, is his hands. I remember how big my grandfather’s hands were, those long fingers, that vast palm. “Put it there, partner,” he’d say, engulfing my hand in his. There was power in those hands, hard and work-worn. They were not perfect. His hands came into tenderness just about the same way wood is finished. My grandfather liked woodworking. He would run course grit over the rough places, sanding and sanding, switch to fine grit, and refine the little imperfections. He did not create the wood, its inner character and shine. He only received what was hidden, worked to reveal the loveliness of the given woodgrain. He would slide his fingers over the finished wood, smooth and pretty. His were hands that strove for excellence. His care and skill could transform a dead tree, give it new life. And I will also say this: his hands made well whatever they touched. My grandfather had the hands of an artist. He spoke with his hands.

***

I tell this as I see it in my mind’s eye. Some details, I admit, may be the mingling of memories. The mind and imagination see through a glass, darkly. I seek to see what is worth remembering as clearly as I can, never enough. Still, I will look through affection at what I have known. Perhaps I shall see things I have missed.

My grandfather sat in a recliner, his hands in his lap, fingers interwoven. My grandmother sat in a chair to his right. The lights were turned off. With all those big windows, overlooking the pastures and woods, the sun shining, there was no need for bought light in that house. My grandfather built it. He laid the wood floor, those wide yellowpine boards, nailed them in. The fireplace centered the room; the brick chimney rose high into the vaulted ceiling, ribbed with boards stained lightly. Deer mounts hung on the walls. Draped over the railing to the upstairs loft, a horse saddle collected dust.

Sitting there, just visiting with his grandson, he got to talking. For whatever reason, and I can’t remember how we got on the subject, my grandfather told me that he kept my older sister and me when we were little while my parents went to work. He spoke slow and deep, at times, almost mutteringly. His gray mustache barely moved as he talked. I was still in diapers, he told me. He stared off as he spoke to me, a man with a child in diapers myself. He told me my aunt had moved back home. This was my father’s baby sister. 28 years old, she had brain cancer. And here was this tall man in Wrangler blue jeans, sitting there, just saying something that happened to be on his mind. A surgery weeks before I was born gave his daughter a chance to live and severed her short-term memory. My grandparents had to inject her with an experimental cancer treatment derived from Rosy Periwinkle. She was their flower child.

My grandfather was just talking, telling a memory as only he knew it. Chemo injections, cleaning up vomit, between these, he said, “I was changing your diapers.” His hands rested there in his lap. He did not look at me. He said, “Those were hard days.” My aunt lived until I was in my early thirties.
Together, my grandparents had known what it is to sit in the dark. Together, they lived in the house with all that light. Hand in hand, they kept the light within a promise: to have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till . . ..

***

The willow oak’s long, spear shaped leaves have fallen, lay scattered on the ground. Here, a wild acorn, strewn among the virgin pine and hardwood trees, given to soil and light, sprouted. A shoot reached up. The sapling grew, spread its leaves, and welcomed all the little hidden lives of this place. Withstanding the flooded creek, fierce wind, lightning, and drought: the willow oak saw the woods cut down, the land ploughed, cotton picked, man’s long ache, sweat upon the face, the creek bottom given up to pasture. The pasture returned to light. The old stumps have all rotted now. The woods return. Beneath a blushing sky, the willow oak bears witness.

And there is this other tree with healing in its leaves. I do not see it now. It is planted by streams of living water. It reaches out within the light of that dawn without daybreak. Night will be no more. God’s face will be upon all His children. Jesus Christ will be brighter than the sun.

My grandfather, he is gone. But I know something else too. Where love is there is light and light comes by tender mercy and tender mercy comes to wake the dead.
I stand beneath this willow oak with its immense trunk and watch light break through its outstretched limbs, set it aflame, shatter into streams of gold. I turn and look back up the path I have come. The woods and pastures and hills are gilded in light. This life, this breath, this everything is given, not earned.

I start to walk home. Far off, atop the hill, little children call out.

Jesus is the Word

Chris Hatley — Fri, 23 Aug 2024 :00 -0500

John 1:1-5 resounds with theological significance. Truly, few passages in Scripture are as packed with statements so core to our faith. And as such, it is important that we sit and soak in these truths. The beginning of John’s Gospel has much to teach us.

Right away, in verse 1, we get one of the clearest claims in the New Testament to Christ’s divinity. The Word, Christ Himself, is God. He is, and has always been, one person of our triune God. Our God being triune, and existing eternally as Father, Son, and Spirit, is no small or superfluous statement. The Trinity is, without any need for exaggeration, the bedrock of Christian thinking. It is the driving dogma of our faith. To quote author and theologian Michael Reeves, “…it is only when you grasp what it means for God to be a Trinity that you really sense the beauty, the overflowing kindness, the heart-grabbing loveliness of God. If the trinity were something we could shave off God, we would be shearing Him of precisely what is so delightful about Him. For God is triune, and it is as triune that He is so good and desirable” (Delighting in the Trinity, 9). The beginning of John clearly emphasizes this trinitarian doctrine. Jesus Christ, the Word incarnate, was not made or created. He did not show up on the scene. Jesus Christ was “in the beginning.” He was “with God” because He is God. One God, three persons. We can delight that the Word has always been.

John does not stop there. Not only does he state that the Word is divine, one person of the triune Godhead, but he also clarifies in verse 3 that “all things were made through Him.” Paul too reminds us of such, saying in Colossians 1:15-17 that Christ “is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by Him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through Him and for Him. And He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.”

This should be a source of great comfort for us. Every atom and electron, every planet and solar system, all of it hinges on the sovereign reign of our Creator and King, Jesus Christ. None of it is out of place. As heir of all things, Jesus upholds the universe by the word of His power (Hebrews 1:2-3). It is all in His hands. Everything that is not God is made and sustained by our Savior. The same Christ that is interceding for us at the right hand of the Father, is the one who fashioned our very existence (Romans 8:34). 1 Corinthians 8:5-6 reiterates, saying, “For although there may be so-called gods in heaven or on earth—as indeed there are many 'gods' and many 'lords'—yet for us there is one God, the Father, from whom are all things and for whom we exist, and one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom are all things and through whom we exist” (1 Corinthians 8:5-6). We are both from and for Jesus.

Finally, in verses 4-5, John tells us that life and light are found in the Word, Jesus Christ. This will be again echoed by Christ’s own statement later in John 8:12, “Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, ‘I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.’” This too should fill us with gospel confidence. Life, true life, is not found in a set of rules or commandments. It isn’t found in moral living or church attendance. Life is found in a person. Life is found in Jesus Christ. This life has the radiance to shine out from the darkness. No matter how dark our world might seem, the light of life is never extinguished. This is reason for much rejoicing.

John 1 opens with a beginning, echoing that of Genesis 1. In both, we see the triune God at work, shaping all of creation as a stage for His glory. Our response should be joy and praise. The eternally existent, omnipotent God of the universe came to dwell with us. We are His, and He is ours.

The Sweetness of God’s Word

Sam Leopold — Fri, 16 Aug 2024 :00 -0500

Have you felt the heartbreak of unmet potential? Those moments in life when you feel the pain of what could have been met with the reality of what is. I love sports, and I love the global moment of the world stopping to watch the Olympics. I am not a regular follower of track and field, gymnastics, swimming, or fencing, but the thrill of global competition draws me in. If you are a regular follower of the U.S. Men’s 4x100 meter relay on the track, you know exactly what I am talking about in unmet potential. The U.S. is a dominant force on the track, regularly producing a new class of the fastest sprinters in the world, and regularly the U.S. Men have some of the top times in the 100-meter sprint. With amazing raw talent, the individuals are able to run their separate races as the best in the world. But then they come together as a team and try to string together four 100-m segments connected by three baton passes to claim the title of fastest sprinting country, and for the past 20 years, we have not been able to do it. The team has been riddled with baton drops, missed cues, poor communication, and the bang-your-head-against-the-wall type of frustration of not being able to live up to their potential (and those watching from our couches feel it for them too!).

As we conclude our summer study of Psalm 119, I can’t help but make a similar parallel to my own life and the Word of God. Perhaps what stops us from seeing God’s Word as sweeter than honey is that we are more familiar with the bitter taste of regret of not seeing the full potential of God’s Word. The twelfth and last stanza of our study shows us the full potential of those who love God’s Word. The Psalmist beautifully declares to us that God’s Word…

Is meant to be “our meditation all the day” (97), or the thing that is meant to fill our minds every day. What are the things your mind is filled with all day?
Gives us “more understanding than all our teachers” (99) and makes us “understand more than the aged” (100). It is the thing that makes the rest of our life make the most sense. What do you cling to in order to make your life make sense?
Keeps us “from every evil way” (101) and makes us to “hate every false way” (104). It is the contrast and anchor we need to choose the path that God knows will bring us life. What evil is God’s Word protecting you from?

God’s Word is sweeter than honey because, amidst our bitter moments of considering it less than the potential it was meant to have in our lives, God has sent the Word to dwell with us that we may see The Word’s faithfulness in our lives in spite of our unfaithfulness. The Word has come to make us sweeter than honey because of the bitterness Christ endured for us on the cross.

In keeping with the relay metaphor, we are meant to run the race God has set before us, having the baton of faith in God’s Word passed down through God’s church throughout all the generations of God’s people. Even as we have had moments of dropping the baton, we take confidence not in our own ability to carry it forward but in God’s faithfulness to carry His promises through our lives because of The Word which dwells in us. As we worship the One who is faithful, a watching world gets to see His faithfulness at work through us.

Surrounded by Hope

Neatice Warner — Fri, 09 Aug 2024 :00 -0500

“This is too hard! We have to come home!” A missionary in a country where masked gangs roamed neighborhoods called home for rescue after he and his family, coming out of a store, were surrounded by men armed with knives. He gave them all his money, thankful his family had escaped being kidnapped. That same day, he called his ministry leader, pleading to be extracted. But the director refused; it wasn’t possible; they had to stay at least a little longer.

The writer of Psalm 119 seems to have been in a similar situation as he wrote the “Kaph” stanza, calling to God for rescue and justice. Persecutors targeted him, set traps for him, and even threatened his life. He felt, he said, like a “wineskin in the smoke,” his vitality seeming to shrivel as oppressors closed in.

But the Psalmist’s desperate situation did not define or control him. “I hope in Your Word,” he prayed, and “my eyes long for Your promise.” He embraced God’s commandments, which revealed God’s character, and he looked expectantly for fulfillment of God’s promise. He also seemed to understand that his greatest danger was surrender to temptation, to fall into “pits” of pervasive fear or anger, or doubt of God’s presence and love. He could have focused only on himself or relied on his world’s attitudes or comforts.

Our lives are not usually as fraught with danger as that of the Psalmist or the missionary who told the story above, though God’s people in many places face severe suppression and deprivation. But we may at times feel overwhelmed by circumstances. Have you faced a series of fearful medical diagnoses? Has a financial setback come at the same time that family members need more from you? Is a hard relationship at work a constant pressure even as projects get more demanding? Do you feel weakened by some disappointment in your career or a relationship? Perhaps, like the Psalmist, a family member, co-worker, or teacher targets you or your child because of your faith in Christ.

Life is real and often hard. God cares! But when He doesn’t immediately rescue us from situations that crowd in on us, where do we turn? The Psalmist said, “I hope in Your Word. My eyes long for Your promise…” (Psalm 119:81-82).

What did he mean? God’s Word is filled with great promises of His presence, His guidance, and His unfailing love. These promises are true! But also, many centuries after the writing of Psalm 119, Paul the apostle of Jesus Christ wrote, “All the promises of God find their Yes in Him” (2 Corinthians 1:20). Jesus is the perfect fulfillment of all God’s promises. He lived God’s commands perfectly. He accomplished His people’s eternal salvation through His death on the cross, suffering not only deadly attacks like the Psalmist but God’s eternal judgment for the sins of His people. Our eternal life was guaranteed by His resurrection.

What the Psalmist relied on in promise, we know and trust in fulfillment in Jesus. We have life with Him forever and certainty of ultimate justice. Right now, in every circumstance, He is present for comfort, guidance, and help. We, like the Psalmist, know that in His steadfast love is our hope and our life.

The Good in Our Affliction

Ann Higginbottom — Fri, 02 Aug 2024 :00 -0500

Have you ever stood at the base of a palm tree? Imagine standing with your toes touching the trunk and craning your neck to look straight up. Higher and higher and higher, the trunk climbs towards a bluebird sky until finally…poof! A spray of bright green palms explodes into a firework sprawl. Tall and thin, the trunk steadily sways, with the palm topper dancing back and forth. Gusts of wind sporadically pull the tree this way…and then that way…and then this way again. With each gust, the palm bends and stretches before returning to center…and somehow, standing stronger and taller.

The wild part about palm trees is their root system. Compared to the vast height of the tree, its roots are short and shallow. So how do they stand so proudly along weather-torn coastlines? Adversity. The strength and resilience of the palm tree is directly correlated to the adversity it faces from being tossed back and forth in the wind.

Psalm 119 directs our hearts to consider the same head-scratching scenario. What if affliction plays a significant role in teaching us about the goodness of God? It seems easy and more natural to our flesh to celebrate the goodness of our Heavenly Father in the times of plenty, comfort, and ease. The unnatural and even surreal reality is that as believers we experience the tender strength of our God through times of trial. In these times His grace often seems more tangible than ever.

The classroom of affliction invites us to taste and see that God is fully trustworthy and that His presence is faithful and sufficient. In the midst of hard, we see our suffering Savior who enters into the valley with us. In our desire for ease and comfort, we are prone to stray from the source of our strength. Who needs help when things are easy? And yet when affliction tides rise, we remember our need. We remember our source of comfort, and by His grace, we choose to trust and obey.

During an immense trial years ago, I found myself bewildered by peace. Have you ever experienced that? On paper, life was really hard, and the ache was very real. And yet I felt held by such immoveable strength. I remember asking a friend: “I don’t get it. Why am I okay? With all that’s going on, why do I feel such peace?” This dear friend didn’t pause in response: “Because everything you believe is true,” she said. In the middle of affliction, it’s the merciful grace of God that holds those who belong to Him. The storms of life tug and pull us in every direction and with great purpose: to make us stronger, more resilient, and more assured of our Savior’s provision.

I stood at the base of a palm tree this summer, mesmerized by its sway and strength. Just beyond the dune, I watched my boys bouncing through the waves. One pummel after another, they popped back up to take on another wave, full of laughter. What a beautiful image of a bold and assured statement: “I have learned to kiss the wave that throws me against the Rock of Ages” (Spurgeon). Afflictions are certain this side of heaven. How will we relate to them? Will we run away or will we stay and find ourselves held? God’s promise to us is sure: “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose” (Romans 8:28). He is trustworthy and gracious to use all things—times of joy and times of affliction—to convince us that we are His and to conform us to His image.

Incline My Heart

Will Washington — Fri, 26 Jul 2024 :00 -0500

One thing it is important to recognize is that every church, ministry, and even Christian has an underlying belief of what will actually change people, and how God works in our lives (including for themselves). In an article titled, “How Do People Actually Change?”, Simeon Zahl calls this one’s “operative theology.” He explains operative theology as “not necessarily the theology we think we subscribe to, but the theology we are deploying or responding to in practice.” This is not mere theoretical discussion; this ends up being immensely practical in our own Christian lives and in how we minister to others we care about.

Some examples of common operative theologies include (1) the knowledge approach, which is about learning biblical information, (2) the emotional experiences approach, which is about feeling a certain way in a church gathering or spiritual discipline, (3) the “do more, try harder” approach, which is about motivating people to be more disciplined and live a changed life, and the (4) “participate in this ministry” approach, which is the belief that if you are part of a certain worship service, retreat, Bible study, or anything else, that will lead to life change. There are certainly more, but these are some we see in our culture regularly. Additionally, while this is a simplified overview, and each of these approaches might have elements of others included in them, Zahl also argues that most of us have one main foundational element at the heart of what we do. While there can be helpful elements in these, these operative theologies each miss a crucial truth about who we are as humans in the biblical view, and therefore, what is required to change us.

In Psalm 119:36-37, the Psalmist gives us insight into what actually changes people and how God actually works in our lives. It is based on what the Psalmist (and the rest of the Bible) sees as our core issue. That core issue is the human heart (Jeremiah 17:9). In verse 36, “incline my heart” is a phrase that shows the Psalmist knows that God must graciously give him the deepest motivation to follow Him. One way of reading this is, “Give me a desire for Your rules.” He is dependent on the Lord to give him desires that are not formed by his natural selfishness but are instead formed by Scripture. Knowledge, effort, and emotional experiences are not enough to change him. He needs God to change his heart solely by grace. In verse 37, we see two options about how to live: looking at worthless things or receiving life in the way of walking with God. Yet once again, the Psalmist’s request is for God to “turn his eyes away” from what is worthless, revealing his dependence on God’s work in him. The Hebrew means that his prayer is for God to “revive him with His Word,” and things that need revival are things that have lost life inside of them. The Psalmist is consistent with other biblical writers in demonstrating two key realities:

(1) In order to change, we need our hearts to be revived by God.
(2) That only happens when we are captured by beholding something better than our sinful and worldly desires.

In other words, the fundamental way that we change is not by getting through to our heads or wills, but to our hearts. How is this even possible?

This is the bottom line, and it’s something the church cannot abandon. There is only one thing that can get through to the human heart and change it deeply: the love of Christ in the Gospel. Unlike the Psalmist, we have a completed Bible, so we know the testimonies and law he speaks of all point to and find their fulfillment in Jesus. What is the only thing able to make my naturally selfish heart delight in the Lord and His ways? When the Holy Spirit captures my attention and fixes my gaze upon the beauty and glory of Jesus, the one who is like a treasure hidden in a field. When a man found that treasure, he sold everything he had to buy that field (Matthew 13:44). When we realize that the greatest treasure, the most worthy object, is not a jewel but a person who loves us and gave Himself for us, we will be changed (Galatians 2:20). When we realize all that it cost Jesus to make us His treasure, He will become ours, and we will experience life in His ways.

A few weeks ago, my car battery died. I could yell at the battery, give the battery information on how to be fixed, or try to motivate the battery, but no matter what I did, the only thing that would fix the problem was this: I needed a new battery. In the same way, we need new hearts, and the good news of the Gospel is that God can give that to us (Ezekiel 36:26). A preacher can stand up all day and tell us what to do and how to live, but that does not give us the desire or ability to do it. We need a new heart, and the only thing that changes the human heart is the grace of God in the Gospel (Titus 2:11-13).

Charles Spurgeon once quoted English revivalist and hymnist John Berridge (1716–1793) as follows:

Run and run the law demands
But gives me neither feet nor hands.
Better news, the Gospel brings
It bids me fly, it gives me wings!

Tell Him Everything

Amy Tassos — Fri, 19 Jul 2024 :00 -0500

The language the author uses throughout Psalm 119 gives us a glimpse into what he is experiencing -- desperation, longing for justice, affliction, fear, anxiety, insecurity, anticipating disgrace, suffering taunts, ridicule, slander, distress, and oppression. In this portion of the Psalm, we find the Psalmist in deep anguish such that he proclaims, “My soul clings to the dust” and “My soul melts away for sorrow.”

In the next sentence, our Psalmist says, “When I told of my ways, You answered me.” The Psalmist does the one thing that gives life, yet many of us fail to do it. He turned to the Lord with the specifics of his situation. Often when we are in an uncomfortable place (whether of our own making or others sin against us), we begin to devise ways to save ourselves, or we start talking to our friends, framing our situation in such a way as to garner their support.

The Psalmist turned to the Lord, and he tells us that the Lord answered him. Once we realize that God does not miss a single detail of our lives, that He sees not only the circumstance we are in but hears our self-justifying thoughts, we learn there is no better place to turn than to the One who already knows all and can help us. How do we know we can turn to the Lord, even with our sin? He tells us in Exodus 34:6 that He is, “The LORD, the LORD, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness.” The author of Psalm 103 reminds us of this and adds:

He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is His steadfast love toward those who fear Him; as far as the east is from the west, so far does He remove our transgressions from us. As a father shows compassion to his children, so the LORD shows compassion to those who fear Him (vs 10-14).

How do we know we can trust His words? We know we can trust Him, because He gave His only Son, His perfect Son, to die in our place. Jesus knew what it was to have His soul “cling to the dust” and “melt away for sorrow.” Jesus took unfairness and shame that did not belong to Him but to us.

Our Psalmist asks God to graciously teach him, to help him understand, and to strengthen him. Finally, he says to the Lord, “I will run in the way of Your commandments when You enlarge my heart!” He knows that unless God does the work in his heart, his desires will continue to be self-justifying instead of God-pleasing. Self-justification or self-glorification is a heavy burden. Yet there is rest in wanting to please God, because it means acknowledging our sin, our guilt, and the state of our heart. We “tell God of our ways,” and we look to our Savior who bore shame and disgrace in our place. Rest and freedom come in knowing that our lives, for those who believe, are hidden in Christ, and we are already seated in the heavenly realms with Him (Ephesians 2:5-6). What can man do to us? Enlarge my heart, Lord, that I will run in the way of truth!

The Battle for Purity

Kevin Joseph — Fri, 12 Jul 2024 :00 -0500

This text begins with a subtle note of danger. You may not catch it at first. “How can a young man keep his way pure?” could be read in a conversational, hypothetical tone. But the intensity of response in what follows sheds light on the Psalmist’s estimation of the threat. The response conveys a fierce resolve and even desperation to avoid a particular fate--drifting from the Lord’s way. This danger is found in the verbs wandering (v10), sinning (v11), and forgetting (v16).

My oldest son, Eli, is leaving for college this fall, and there is an air of excitement in this coming transition. Friends, football games, and fun are all highly anticipated. But he’ll also be leaving the protective eyes of his parents and entering a world in which freedom and corresponding temptation will be in great abundance. A Barna study approximates that roughly 70% of high school students who profess faith will graduate from college with minimal to no faith at all. In light of these realities, the opening question of this passage is especially relevant and weighty: “How can a young man keep his way pure?” (v9)

The Word of God is depicted as a key weapon in this effort against a lukewarm, licentious life. D. L. Moody, speaking on the necessity of regular exposure to God’s Word, once said, “The only way to keep a broken vessel full is by keeping the faucet turned on.” This is surely correct, but Psalm 119:9-16 warns us against a passive reception of God’s Word. Young people (and all of us really) are in a fight, and the Word of God should be pursued and employed in a manner befitting this perilous context. Instead of the image of a jar being filled with water, think of the ubiquitous movie scene where a weapon drops to the ground and the hero and villain dash to grab it. It’s a life-and-death situation. Do you seek the Word of God with this kind of resolve?

This passage describes a whole-hearted pursuit of the Lord (v10), a pledge to internalize the Word through memorization and meditation (v11, 15). There’s a level of delight in God’s Word reserved only for the greatest riches of this world (v14). The Psalmist also depicts a determined resolve that the Word would not only be internalized but would also find external expression declared by his lips (v13).

How can a young man keep his way pure? In other words, how can a young man follow God’s way? The answer in this Psalm is that God’s Word must find its way from His mouth (v13) to our hearts (v9, 11), and from our transformed hearts to our lips (v13) and ways (v11, 15). How our hearts receive God’s Word is critical in this pathway to following God’s way. We must store up (v11), meditate upon (v15), and delight in (v16) God’s testimonies.

Resolve towards these actions is not the only answer. Prayerful dependence is also prescribed in this passage. The Psalmist pleads to the Lord, “Let me not wander from Your commandments!” (v10) and “Teach me Your statutes!” (v12). Our strength comes from the Lord.

So, my prayer for my son will be that he exhibits determined resolve, a heart absorbed with the Word, and prayerful dependence. May God develop these traits within us and all our young men and women at PCPC so that we are ready to engage in the battle for purity.

Heaviness and Rest

Kari Stainback — Fri, 05 Jul 2024 :00 -0500

Last week I had the privilege of attending the Gospel Coalition Women's Conference along with 9,000 other women during a heat wave in Indianapolis, IN. On the first day, the conference’s bookstore was giving away new NIV Study Bibles. They were large and heavy, but needless to say, I put one in my book bag along with lots of other new books and excitedly went about my day of hearing wonderful teaching from many godly women. By the time dinner approached, our book bags were getting heavy, and our dinner reservation was a 30-minute walk in the scorching heat. Sweaty and weary, we finally got to the restaurant. My friend, who also snagged a free study Bible, slammed her bag on the table and pronounced, “Jesus is HEAVY”! We all laughed, grateful for the relief of being free from our heavy burdens and ready for a restful meal. What my friend said made me think of the law, the burden of sin, and the freedom Jesus gives us.

In Psalm 119:1-8, the Psalmist uses words like “law”, “testimonies”, “ways”, “precepts”, “statues”, and “judgments” all to describe God’s written Word. In John 1:1 we read that Jesus is the Word. As it says, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1:1). The Word of God reveals Jesus to us. When the Psalmist states in verses 1-3 that we are most blessed and most favored when we keep God’s commands and seek Jesus with our whole heart, He is expressing his belief that Jesus is the most important person in all of life. He is in effect, saying “Jesus is HEAVY”.

The center of this section of Psalm 119, verse 5, is a prayer. The Psalmist cries out, “Oh that my ways may be steadfast in keeping Your statues!” Clearly, he realizes that without the enablement of God Himself, this desire to live by God’s statutes is doomed. The apostle Paul spoke of being unable to keep God’s ways in his flesh, and he too prays for help. We read this in Romans 7:22-24 where Paul says:

“For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, but I see in my members another law raging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, I myself serve the law of God with my mind, but with my flesh I serve the law of sin.”

No one can keep God’s law, in fact, it further exposes our sin. It is a heavy burden, and it can be exhausting. Yet, this is why Jesus came, to affirm the law and commend us to keep it, as we see in Matthew 5:17-20. However, He also came to fulfill the law and show its true purpose. Jesus desires us to have an obedience to His Word, that flows from the heart.

Paul Tripp speaks to this when he said:

“Jesus came to give us rest. He came to give us rest from the impossibility of defeating sin on our own and from our inability to live up to God’s glorious commands.”

The next time following God’s ways and obeying Him seems hard, even heavy, remember this truth: Because of Christ’s great love, He came to bear the burden of the law and to set us free from its weight. He invites us to turn to Him by saying, “Come to me all who are weary and heavy burdened, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11:28). How can He do this? Because He is our HEAVY, our defeater of all sin, for all who believe for all eternity! Oh, what a weight of Glory!

Longing for the Coming of the Lord

Reynolds Walker — Fri, 28 Jun 2024 :00 -0500

Do you long for the coming of the Lord?
If we are honest, our longing for the Lord’s return often proves weak, when we actually remember that we are called to eagerly anticipate His coming. In truth, we are frequently distracted and distressed. The immediate, material cares of our daily lives often distract us from the true hope and joy of Jesus’s promise that He will come again. Our schedules, the incessant notifications on our devices, and even the relationships we enjoy tend to command and consume our attention more than the call and coming of our Savior. Distressed by the circumstances of our lives, we often improperly use Jesus’s promise that He will come again as an excuse to neglect and escape the present or we turn to various forms of self-medication. Consistently confronted with the presence of relational, physical, and spiritual brokenness in our lives, we look to and hasten the next promotion, the next purchase, or the next vacation, rather than the coming of the Lord. Yet, in spite of and amidst our distraction and distress, Christ is faithful.

He came as the sacrificial Lamb of God, but He will come again as the Lion to judge the whole earth, bringing His recompense with Him. If not for the glorious grace of God in the person of Jesus Christ, we would not joyously beckon Christ’s return but our own destruction. Not consciously, but deceived, in incremental instances of rebellion we would herald our inevitable, eternal separation from the Lord. For, as Augustine said: “Without You, what am I to myself but a guide to my own self-destruction?” (Confessions, Book IV). This is true of us all. But by God’s grace, we are not those destined to live outside the city, but those destined to enter the gates and live forever in the presence of God. He has called us to Himself, is sanctifying us, and will keep us blameless at His coming, for “He who calls you is faithful; He will surely do it” (1 Thessalonians 5:23-24). Christ is the bright morning star, and He will guide us home.

Just as He has called us to Himself, Jesus urges us to beckon Him, saying, “Come.” We are those whom He has called, who have heard His words and recognize His voice, who have tasted and seen that He is good (Psalm 34:8). In loving response to His abundant goodness, let us beckon Him, all the while hastening to share His words with others, remembering that to all who are thirsty our Lord offers the water of life without price.

The coming judgement of the Lord will be a truly terrible thing for those who are not in Christ—outside the city—but for those who are in Christ, the judgement of the Lord brings blessedness. Isaiah depicts this reality: “And the ransomed of the LORD shall return and come to Zion with singing; everlasting joy shall be upon their heads; they shall obtain gladness and joy, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away” (Isaiah 35:10). For children of the King, the world does not end in sorrow but in song. Let us long to sing on that day!

Surely He is coming soon. Let us beckon Him, for He is our hope and our future. Let us live as joyous heralds of His coming, for we are His and He is ours. Come, Lord Jesus!

“The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all. Amen.”

How Heaven Inspires Us

Will Peters — Fri, 21 Jun 2024 :00 -0500

When I was a child, I always imagined heaven as a place above the clouds. I pictured having my own little cloud that I lived on and walking through a big city with streets of gold. I was scared of heaven because I thought it would be boring. Things like singing worship music to God continually sounded like a letdown. What I failed to understand is what John witnessed in the book of Revelation. In the last few chapters, John sees what the new Kingdom he was promised looks like. It is not in the clouds, and he doesn’t have a harp. Instead, John sees that heaven comes down to earth. Jesus descending for the final time ushers in a perfect earthly kingdom that stories could never perfectly describe. John can see the new Kingdom of God, which is magnificent and somewhat familiar. The imagery described in Revelation 22:1-5 is that of a garden. It would make people think of Eden, where God dwelled with Adam and Eve in perfect harmony. Like the garden, God provides food through trees. And unlike Eden, there is no sin. Christians are allowed to eat of the fruit of the Tree of Life, and the Tree freely gives fruit to the people of God. Instead of the sun, the Lord brings light to this temple of the Lord.

Does this sound like good news? Are we willing to believe this message of hope is enough to sustain us through the harsh realities of this life? Does the beauty of Jesus motivate you to live through the temptations of this world? Sin looks to isolate us from God. Instead of longing for God and His goodness, we are afraid of Him. Our hearts and minds have been distorted by sin, and at times, we choose to believe the lie that God could never love us because of our sinful hearts. Sin also causes us to see the return of Jesus as boring or less than what we could experience now in this life.

Let us not lose hope. Jesus is bringing in a Kingdom that is more beautiful than anything this life has to offer. He offers us himself, and to do that, He had to give His own life. Imagine experiencing eternal fellowship with God and choosing to leave that to redeem those who could never earn it. Jesus chose to enter into a world of sin and misery, where He would see the brokenness of sin causing sickness and death to those around Him. He witnessed how things the people clung to for hope, like wealth or worldly success, caused destruction. He came to show us that He offers something far better.

Revelation 22 shows us the promise of what Jesus was proclaiming. An eternity with God has no sin, no shortage of food, and no heartbreak. Instead, Jesus is bringing a garden temple back for His people, where we will worship Him in spirit and in truth. All our needs will be taken care of, and we will be undistracted from worshiping God, which is what we were made to do. Unhindered worship is something we will never fully experience in this life, but one day Christ in His glory will bring that to us. I’m thankful worshiping God will not mean floating on a cloud with a harp, like I thought as a child. God’s glory and eternity are brilliant, and we will only be able to imagine what it is like until Jesus returns.

How does that inspire you? Do you believe that Jesus' return is enough that worldly things seem less important? We don’t get there overnight or on our own. Daily, Christ is preparing our hearts for eternal worship. Like we prepare our hearts for the corporate gathering at church, Christ is shaping us so that we may reflect Him now and for the coming Kingdom.