Diagnoses Aren’t Prophecy

Yesterday, Jackson had a neuropsychological evaluation.

His autism diagnosis was not new. He has been diagnosed with autism since he was two, and that has been a consistent part of our understanding of him.

What was new was a diagnosis of intellectual disability.

I had wondered about this possibility because, as Jackson has grown, I have noticed areas of executive functioning, learning, problem-solving, and adaptive functioning that seem different from what I would expect for his chronological age. Still, hearing a new diagnosis attached to your child is a different experience than simply wondering about something.

My heart is heavy.

Not because I believe this diagnosis makes Jackson less capable or less valuable. It doesn’t.

But because as his mother, I immediately start thinking about his future.

Will people understand him?

Will he have lasting friendships?

Will he find places where he belongs?

Will he receive the accommodations and support he needs—or will people assume he doesn’t need enough help because his challenges aren’t considered “severe”?

I think this is one of the most misunderstood things about developmental disabilities.

Autism and intellectual disability are not the same thing.

Autism primarily involves differences in social communication and interaction, along with restricted or repetitive behaviors, interests, or sensory experiences.

Intellectual disability involves significant limitations in intellectual functioning and adaptive functioning—things like learning, reasoning, problem-solving, communication, and managing everyday life.

You can have autism without intellectual disability.

You can have intellectual disability without autism.

And you can have both.

And perhaps most importantly:

Communication ability and intellectual ability are not the same thing.

A person can be non-speaking and understand much more than they can communicate. A person can have significant sensory or social challenges and have average or above-average intellectual ability. And a person with intellectual disability may have strengths and abilities that aren’t captured well by a standardized test.

That distinction matters because a diagnosis is supposed to help us understand what support a person needs, not determine their worth or write their future for them.

And this is where my heart has been wrestling.

Jackson is getting older.

He is too big to simply be included with much younger children, but developmentally he may not yet be ready to participate in the same way as many children his age.

We’ve seen glimpses of this already.

The last two Sundays at church, Jackson tried to engage groups of older boys. He approached them because he wanted to play. But they backed away awkwardly or simply told him, “No, I don’t want to play with you,” and walked away.

I’m sure those boys weren’t trying to wound him.

They probably didn’t know what to do.

But I was his mother, standing there watching my child reach for friendship and not quite know how to bridge the gap.

And that hurts.

It makes me think about the spaces Jackson will encounter throughout his life where he may be too old for one group, but not developmentally ready for another.

Where does a child belong when the world has categories for age, but development doesn’t always follow those categories?

Where does he fit when he needs more support than some people realize, but doesn’t fit the picture people have in their minds of someone with a “severe” disability?

Those are questions I’m still learning how to answer.

But there is something I want to remind myself—and perhaps another parent needs to hear it too:

Diagnoses aren’t prophecy.

A diagnosis describes something important about a person’s functioning today.

It can help us understand.

It can help us advocate.

It can help us access accommodations.

It can help us stop blaming a child for something that isn’t simply a matter of trying harder.

But it does not tell me everything about Jackson’s future.

It doesn’t tell me what relationships he will have.

It doesn’t tell me what he will learn.

It doesn’t tell me what strengths will emerge.

It doesn’t tell me who will love him.

And it certainly doesn’t tell me what God intends to do with his life.

The evaluation may give us information about Jackson that we didn’t have before.

It doesn’t give us a prophecy.

And I am grateful that God knows the whole story when I can only see the next page.

He knows every part of Jackson—the things the evaluation measured and the things no evaluation could ever measure.

He knows what Jackson understands when he can’t communicate it.

He knows the desires of his heart.

He knows the friendships he will have.

He knows where Jackson will struggle and where he will flourish.

He knows what support Jackson will need.

And He knows the future.

So today, I’m allowing myself to feel the heaviness.

I’m also grateful.

Grateful that we have more information.

Grateful that we can better understand how Jackson learns and functions.

Grateful that there were no additional diagnoses, including ADHD.

Grateful that his evaluation did not paint the severe picture my fearful heart sometimes imagines.

And grateful that a diagnosis gives us another tool to advocate for our son.

Most of all, I’m reminding myself:

Jackson is not his diagnoses.

He is not a score.

He is not a developmental age.

He is not a list of limitations.

He is my son.

And he is fearfully and wonderfully made.

“For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.”
— Psalm 139:13

So we will keep learning.

We will keep advocating.

We will keep making room for him.

We will keep looking for ways to help him communicate, connect, learn, and belong.

And when I can’t see what comes next, I will remind myself:

Nothing about Jackson is a mystery to God.

“The LORD is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts.”
— Psalm 28:7

Diagnoses aren’t prophecy. They are information. And information can help us build better support for the child God has already entrusted to us.

— The Meek Momma

September 19, 2026 0

A Place at the King’s Table

What Leviticus 21–22, David, and the Gospel Teach Us About Holiness, Grace, and Belonging

A Note Before We Begin

As I have been studying through Leviticus 21–22, I have found myself slowing down over some passages that can be difficult for modern readers to hear.

The Lord gives Moses instructions concerning the descendants of Aaron who would serve as priests. Among those instructions, we read that a priest with certain physical blemishes or disabilities was not to approach the altar to offer the Lord’s food offerings or go through the veil.

At first glance, these passages can be jarring.

And because of that, I think we need to slow down and let the text say what it actually says rather than allowing our first reaction to determine what we believe it means.

Leviticus 21 is not teaching that a person with a disability is less valuable, less loved, or somehow unacceptable to God.

The restriction concerns the priestly function of approaching the altar and performing particular sacred duties.

In fact, there is a detail in this passage that is easy to miss.

The priest who had a physical blemish was still permitted to eat the bread of his God, both the most holy and the holy things (Leviticus 21:22).

He was restricted from performing a particular priestly function.

He was not cast away from God’s provision – This to me reveals the heart of our God.

The priesthood and sacrificial system communicated through visible, tangible realities. The sacrifices were to be without blemish. The priests who approached the altar were given corresponding physical qualifications. These requirements belonged to the symbolic language of Israel’s worship and helped communicate the holiness, completeness, and sacredness of the work being performed.

The priesthood was pointing beyond itself.

Hebrews tells us that Jesus is our perfect High Priest:

“Holy, innocent, unstained, separated from sinners, and exalted above the heavens.”
— Hebrews 7:26

What Israel’s priesthood could only imperfectly portray, Christ fulfills completely.

And yet, as I sat with these passages, I kept thinking about someone else.

Mephibosheth.

And that is where this study took me next.

A Man Who Was Far Off

Mephibosheth was the son of Jonathan and the grandson of Saul.

When he was five years old, news came that Saul and Jonathan had died in battle. His nurse picked him up and fled, but in the process he fell and became disabled in both feet (2 Samuel 4:4).

Years later, David became king.

And David did something unexpected.

He asked:

“Is there still anyone left of the house of Saul, that I may show him kindness for Jonathan’s sake?”
— 2 Samuel 9:1

Eventually David learns about Mephibosheth.

And Mephibosheth is brought before the king.

Imagine what that must have felt like.

He was the grandson of Saul, the former king. His father, Jonathan, was dead. His grandfather was dead. He was living in Lo-debar, far from the center of the kingdom.

And now he was being summoned into the presence of David.

He falls on his face.

David tells him not to be afraid.

Then David gives him something he could never have secured for himself:

his inheritance.

David restores to Mephibosheth all the land that had belonged to Saul.

But David doesn’t stop there.

He says:

“You shall eat at my table always.”
— 2 Samuel 9:7

And the text repeats the picture:

“So Mephibosheth ate at David’s table, like one of the king’s sons.”
— 2 Samuel 9:11

That is the part that stopped me.

Because Mephibosheth did not walk into the king’s presence because he had made himself worthy.

He didn’t restore his own inheritance.

He didn’t earn his invitation.

He didn’t change the condition of his feet before he was welcomed.

The king extended kindness to him.

Holiness Matters

At this point, it would be easy to make the story of Mephibosheth into a simple illustration about acceptance. However, Leviticus is teaching us something we desperately need to remember:

Holiness matters.

God is holy.

His presence is holy.

His worship is holy.

His sacrifices are holy.

His priesthood is holy.

And approaching Him is not something to be treated casually.

Leviticus 21–22 reminds Israel that the things associated with God’s presence were not ordinary things.

The priests were not ordinary representatives.

The sacrifices were not ordinary meals.

The altar was not an ordinary place.

God was teaching His people through physical realities that He is holy.

And that holiness ultimately points us toward Christ.

The priests of Israel were not the final answer.

The sacrifices were not the final answer.

The earthly tabernacle was not the final answer.

They were shadows and signs pointing forward to the One who would perfectly fulfill what they could only portray.

Jesus is the spotless sacrifice.

Jesus is the perfect High Priest.

Jesus is holy, undefiled, and without sin.

And because of Him, something extraordinary happens.

From Far Off to Near

Paul writes to the Ephesians:

“But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.”
— Ephesians 2:13

There it is.

Far off.

Brought near.

That language ignites a fire within me as I reflect on the profound movement we’ve witnessed throughout Scripture!

Genesis introduces the problem.

Exodus establishes God’s presence among His people.

Leviticus teaches Israel how to live in the presence of a holy God.

And then, throughout the rest of Scripture, we begin to see God’s redemptive plan unfold until we arrive at Christ.

The God who dwells among His people makes a way for sinners to draw near.

Not because we have made ourselves clean.

Not because we have made ourselves worthy.

Not because we have repaired everything that is broken.

But because Christ has made a way.

Paul says that those who were once far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.

That is not sentimental language.

It is sacrificial language.

It takes us right back to the world of Leviticus.

Blood mattered because life mattered.

Sacrifice mattered because sin mattered.

Holiness mattered because God Himself is holy.

And all of those things ultimately point us toward Jesus.

A King Who Welcomes the Unworthy

This is where I think 2 Samuel 9 becomes such a beautiful companion to what we are seeing in Leviticus.

I don’t mean that Mephibosheth is a direct prophecy of Jesus.

Scripture doesn’t tell us to read the story that way.

And I don’t want to force a connection simply because it makes for a beautiful illustration.

But Scripture does allow us to trace themes.

And one of those themes is gracious welcome.

Mephibosheth comes before the king knowing he has nothing to offer.

At one point he even describes himself as a “dead dog” (2 Samuel 9:8).

Yet David restores what was lost and gives him a permanent place at his table.

There is something profoundly beautiful about that picture.

The king’s kindness creates belonging.

And that makes me think again about the difficult passage in Leviticus.

The priest with a physical blemish was not worthless.

He was not beyond God’s provision.

He was still permitted to eat the holy things.

His restriction concerned his priestly function.

And Mephibosheth’s disability did not prevent him from being welcomed to the king’s table.

These truths belong together.

Holiness does not mean that people with disabilities are less valuable.

And grace does not mean that holiness doesn’t matter.

Both are true.

God is holy.

And God is gracious.

The Table

There is something about a table that communicates belonging.

To eat at someone’s table is to be welcomed.

To have a place at the table is to belong.

And David doesn’t merely tell Mephibosheth that he may visit.

He says:

“You shall eat at my table always.”

And the narrator emphasizes it again:

“Like one of the king’s sons.”

Mephibosheth’s identity at the table was no longer defined by what he had lost.

He was defined by the kindness that had been extended to him.

And this is where my thoughts eventually move from David to Christ.

Because the gospel tells us that we, too, were once far off.

We were separated from God.

We could not make ourselves worthy of His presence.

We could not repair the breach ourselves.

But God did what we could not do.

Christ brought us near.

A Better High Priest

Leviticus teaches us to take holiness seriously.

Hebrews teaches us why.

The priests of Israel were imperfect.

Their sacrifices had to be repeated.

Their service was temporary.

But Jesus is different.

He is the perfect High Priest.

He does not need to offer sacrifice for His own sin.

He does not need to repeat His sacrifice.

He does not enter an earthly sanctuary that will eventually pass away.

He enters the true presence of God on our behalf.

And His sacrifice is sufficient.

The spotless Lamb became the sacrifice.

The perfect High Priest offered Himself.

And through His blood, those who were far off are brought near.

That changes everything.

From the King’s Table to the Great Banquet

The Bible begins with humanity separated from God because of sin.

But Scripture doesn’t end there.

It ends with God’s people dwelling with Him.

And the language of Scripture eventually brings us to another table.

A greater banquet.

Revelation 19:9 says:

“Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.”

The invitation is not something we earned.

It is grace.

The table is not something we built.

The King prepared it.

And the One who makes our invitation possible is the Lamb who was slain.

This is why I don’t want to rush past the difficult passages in Leviticus.

They teach us something precious.

God’s holiness is not a small thing.

His presence is not casual.

Sin is not insignificant.

Sacrifice is not meaningless.

The Scriptures are the story of a holy God making a way to bring His people near.

Come Near

Maybe that is the question I am left with after studying these passages:

Do I really understand what it means that I have been brought near?

We can become so familiar with the language of Christianity that we forget how astonishing it is.

I was far off.

You were far off.

And Christ brought us near.

Not through our goodness.

Not through our religious performance.

Not through our ability to make ourselves whole.

By His blood.

That is grace.

And perhaps this is part of what makes the story of Mephibosheth so beautiful.

He didn’t have to become worthy of the table before he could sit at it.

The king’s kindness gave him a place.

And while David’s table was only a small picture within the larger story of Scripture, it gives us a glimpse of something wonderful:

There is a King who welcomes the undeserving.

There is a King who restores what was lost.

There is a King who brings the far-off near.

And there is a King who has prepared a table that will never end.

So let us not diminish holiness.

Let us not minimize sin.

Let us not make the cross small.

Instead, let the holiness of God make the grace of God even more astonishing.

Because the greater our understanding of God’s holiness, the greater our wonder should be that He has made a way for us to come near.

And one day, by the grace of Christ, we will see the fulfillment of it all.

Not merely a place at an earthly king’s table.

But a place at the marriage supper of the Lamb.

Come hungry.

The King has made a place.

September 12, 2026 1

Learning to Run Toward Christ When Life Is Hard

Philippians 3:12–16

This morning, I found myself especially grateful for Paul’s honesty.

In Philippians 3:12, he says:

“Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect…”

Paul admits that he hasn’t arrived.

I don’t know about you, but I find that incredibly encouraging.

Sometimes we can think that following Jesus means we should eventually have everything figured out. That if we’ve been Christians long enough, we should be past the struggle, past the weakness, past the areas where God is still working on us.

But Paul, one of the greatest apostles who ever lived, says essentially, I’m not there yet.

Neither am I.

When we come to Christ, we receive salvation by grace. But salvation isn’t the end of our journey; it’s the beginning of a lifelong process of becoming more like Christ.

We strive toward holiness, not salvation.

We aren’t working so that Christ will choose us. We pursue Him because He has already made us His own.

Paul uses the Greek word teleios (τέλειος) for “perfect” in verse 12. The word can mean complete, mature, or brought toward an intended goal.

Then Paul uses that same word again in verse 15:

“Let those of us who are mature think this way…”

There’s something wonderfully humbling about that.

One mark of Christian maturity is recognizing that we haven’t arrived.

There is still more of Christ to know, more holiness to pursue, more sin to put to death, and more grace to receive.

Paul’s confidence isn’t in how far he has come.

His confidence is in Christ, who has already taken hold of him.

Paul continues:

“But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead…”

Paul had a lot behind him.

He had religious credentials, accomplishments, zeal, suffering, and failures. Earlier in this chapter, he lays out his impressive Jewish résumé and then calls it loss compared with the surpassing worth of knowing Christ.

He refused to allow either his accomplishments or his failures to become the place where he lived.

Sometimes what lies behind us is shame. Sometimes it’s grief. Sometimes it’s success. Sometimes it’s the version of ourselves we wish we could get back. And sometimes it’s simply everything we’ve already carried.

Paul doesn’t pretend the past didn’t happen.

He simply refuses to let it determine the direction he’s going.

His eyes are forward.

The Greek word Paul uses for “straining forward” gives us the picture of a runner stretching toward the finish line.

William Barclay describes it as a racer going hard for the finishing line, with his eyes fixed on the goal.

Paul says:

“I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”

The prize is not simply getting through our present circumstances.

The prize is Christ and the fullness of life with Him.

Scripture gives us glimpses of what awaits us: an imperishable inheritance, the kingdom prepared for God’s people, and the day when death, mourning, crying, and pain will be no more.

That is where we’re headed.

And knowing where we’re going changes how we walk through where we are.

This Week Has Felt Heavy

This passage felt especially personal to me this morning because this last week has been a lot.

I lost a dear friend who leaves children behind, and my heart has been breaking for them.

I spent part of the week walking through an incredibly difficult trial connected to one of the children I advocate for.

Then my mom ended up in the emergency room, and I’ve needed to stay close by, helping with medications and keeping an eye on things while also continuing to care for everything at home.

And life at home hasn’t exactly slowed down.

For my son, difficult events often show up later through increased anxiety and a greater need for control. After the hospital visit, we’ve been navigating some of those things too—difficulty focusing, increased activity, changes in eating, and struggles around routines.

It’s been a full week.

And honestly, I’m tired.

I’m someone who can usually carry a lot. But there is a difference between being strong and being exhausted.

This week has reminded me that I’m not perfect. I’m still being sanctified, and I’m still learning what it means to trust Christ in difficult places.

That’s one reason Paul’s words meant so much to me this morning.

He doesn’t tell us that mature Christians never struggle. He shows us what it looks like to remain focused on Christ while we are still struggling.

One thing that has kept me anchored through this week is simply getting up and opening my Bible.

Not because every morning has felt profound. Sometimes it has simply been obedience. Sometimes it has been the only quiet moment I could find.

But I keep coming back because I know where my strength comes from.

“The joy of the Lord is your strength” (Nehemiah 8:10).

My circumstances aren’t necessarily joyful right now.

But Christ is still faithful.

And that gives me a hope the world cannot offer.

We don’t suffer as people who have no hope.

We grieve, but not without hope.

We hurt, but not without Christ.

We become exhausted, but we are not abandoned.

I’ve found myself thinking often this week about the words at the end of Revelation:

“Surely I am coming soon.”

And John’s response:

“Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!”

There are days when I understand that prayer more deeply than others.

I long for the day when there will be no more tears, no more pain, no more death, and no more brokenness.

But until that day comes, I want to be found faithful.

Paul says in Philippians 4:11:

“I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content.”

I love that word: learned.

Contentment wasn’t something Paul simply possessed.

He learned it.

And I’m still learning it too…

Maybe that’s why Philippians 3 has been so timely for me.

Paul’s identity wasn’t ultimately defined by his accomplishments, his suffering, his failures, or his circumstances.

His identity was rooted in Christ. And mine is too.

Who I am isn’t ultimately determined by what has happened to me.

It isn’t determined by what I accomplish or by the season I’m walking through.

Who I am is based on whose I am.

I belong to Christ.

And because I belong to Christ, I can face the next thing in front of me without having to pretend that I’m strong enough for all of it.

Paul doesn’t tell us to press on because we’re strong. He tells us to press on because Christ has already made us His own.

We aren’t running to prove ourselves worthy or to earn salvation. We’re running toward the One who pursued us first.

So when the road feels heavy, we fix our eyes on Christ.

When the past tries to define us, we look ahead.

When suffering exhausts us, we remember the prize.

We haven’t arrived.

But Christ has made us His own, and He will bring us safely to the goal.

One day, the race will be finished.

The tears will be gone.

The suffering will be over.

And we will finally see the One toward whom we have been running all along.

Until then, I’m pressing on toward Christ.

September 7, 2026 0

Because of Christ: Learning Unity and Humility

Philippians 2:1–11

What does it look like to live a life worthy of the gospel?

In Philippians 1:27, Paul calls the church to live in a way worthy of Christ. As we enter chapter 2, he begins to show us what that looks like in our relationships with one another.

Philippians 2:1–4 gives us the foundation: because of what we have received from Christ, we can learn to live with greater unity and humility. Then, in verses 5–11, Paul points us to Christ Himself as the perfect example.

Because Christ Has Changed Us

Paul begins:

“So if there is any encouragement in Christ, any comfort from love, any participation in the Spirit, any affection and sympathy…”

The word if here is not expressing doubt. Paul is essentially saying, “Since these things are true…”

Since you have experienced encouragement in Christ, comfort from His love, fellowship in the Spirit, and His compassion, let those things shape the way you treat other people.

Eugene Peterson paraphrases the thought in The Message: “If you’ve gotten anything at all out of following Christ, if his love has made any difference in your life, being in a community of the Spirit means anything to you, if you have a heart, if you care…”

I love the simplicity of that. Paul isn’t asking the Philippians to manufacture unity and humility on their own. He is reminding them of what they have already received.

We have been loved, so we learn to love. We have been shown grace, so we extend grace. Christ has served us, so we learn to serve others.

That is the motivation behind Paul’s instruction.

Unity Without Sameness

Paul’s desire is that the Philippians would be “of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind.”

This does not mean they must all be identical. G. W. Hansen explains that Paul is not squelching human creativity or prohibiting personal diversity; he is calling believers to seek the same goal with a like mind.

Christian unity does not require uniformity. We can have different personalities, gifts, backgrounds, and perspectives while still being united around Christ and the gospel.

Revelation 7:9–10 gives us a beautiful picture of this: people from every nation, tribe, people, and language worshiping together before the throne. They are wonderfully diverse, but their worship is centered on the same Lord.

Paul wants the Philippians to share the same gospel-centered purpose, and he knows that humility is essential to maintaining that unity.

The Humility That Protects Unity

Paul continues:

“Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves.”

This is where Paul’s teaching becomes very practical. Unity is difficult when we are primarily concerned with ourselves—our preferences, our recognition, our comfort, our rights, or our desire to be right.

The Greek word translated humility is tapeinophrosynē (ταπεινοφροσύνη), carrying the idea of lowliness of mind or a humble disposition.

Biblical humility does not mean believing that we have no value. It means learning to think rightly about ourselves before God and allowing that right understanding to change how we treat others.

Humility makes room for another person. It is willing to listen, serve, yield a preference, celebrate someone else’s success, or use what God has given us for another person’s good.

That would have sounded radically different in the ancient world. Humility was not generally admired as a virtue; it was associated with low status and weakness. Yet Christianity placed humility near the center of Christian character because our Savior Himself chose the path of humility.

Pastor Dan Hamel summarizes Paul’s logic well: in order for the Philippians to live a life worthy of the gospel, they must be united; and in order for them to be united, they must treat one another better than they treat themselves.
Gospel-shaped living produces gospel-shaped relationships.

Looking to the Interests of Others

Paul makes the application even clearer:

“Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.”

I think the word also is important. Paul isn’t telling us that our own needs don’t matter. He is telling us that they cannot be the only needs we see.

This is where Philippians 2 meets ordinary life—in marriage, parenting, friendship, church, work, and family. Humility becomes visible when our preferences are challenged and we have an opportunity to choose between self-interest and self-giving love.

Where might I need to listen instead of insist? Where might I need to yield? Whose needs have I overlooked because I have been too focused on my own?

At this point, Paul’s instructions could feel almost impossible. Unity. Humility. Considering others more significant than ourselves. Looking to their interests.

How do sinful and self-protective people actually live this way?

Paul doesn’t tell us to try harder.

He says:

“Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus…”

And now Paul takes our eyes off ourselves and puts them on Christ.

Behold Christ

Philippians 2:5–11 is one of the most profound Christological passages in the New Testament. Paul has just told us to consider others more significant than ourselves, and then he shows us the One who did this perfectly.

William Barclay described this as one of the greatest and most moving passages Paul ever wrote about Jesus.

Christ, who existed in the form of God, humbled Himself. He took the form of a servant, became obedient, and went all the way to death—even death on a cross.

This is essential to understanding Christian humility. Paul is not simply giving us a moral example and saying, “Be nicer.” He is showing us the mindset of our Savior.

And when Paul says Christ “emptied himself,” we should not understand this to mean that Jesus stopped being God or surrendered His deity. The passage explains His self-emptying through what follows: He took the form of a servant and humbled Himself in obedience.

Christ’s humility was not a denial of who He was. It was the willing expression of who He was.

“Therefore God has highly exalted him…”

Christ humbled Himself, and the Father exalted Him.

The point isn’t that humility is a strategy for becoming important. The point is that Christ’s obedience was perfectly pleasing to the Father, and He is worthy of our obedience even when that obedience requires us to lay down our own desires.

This brings us back to verse 5:

“Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus.”

The Greek verb phroneō (φρονέω) refers not merely to a passing thought, but to a mindset or disposition—a way of thinking that shapes how we live.

Paul is calling believers to develop a Christ-shaped way of thinking.

Instead of always asking, “What do I want?” we begin asking, “How can I serve?” Instead of being consumed with recognition, we learn to rejoice when someone else is honored. Instead of insisting on our own way, we begin asking what love requires of us.

This is where theology becomes practice. The gospel changes how we see Christ, and seeing Christ changes how we see ourselves and others.

Philippians 2 makes me want to slow down and examine my own relationships.

This is especially worth considering in our homes. Paul’s teaching belongs in our marriages, our parenting, our friendships, and the everyday moments when we have to decide whether our own comfort or another person’s good will have greater weight.

Philippians 2 begins with unity and humility, but Paul doesn’t leave us staring at a command that feels impossible.

He gives us Jesus.

Christ is the pattern for our humility, but He is also the One we are ultimately called to behold. He humbled Himself, became a servant, obeyed the Father, and went to the cross. And the Father exalted Him.

So when humility feels difficult, we don’t simply look harder at ourselves. We look again at Christ.

He is worthy when we don’t get our way. He is worthy when serving costs us. He is worthy when obedience requires us to lay down our own desires.

We are sheep, not peacocks. We are servants, not sovereigns. And if Christ is to fill our lives, we must be willing to empty ourselves—not because we are worthless, but because He is worthy.

September 5, 2026 0

COME STUDY WITH ME

Notes from Leviticus — Part 3

Clean, Unclean & Fulfilled in Christ

As we study Leviticus 11, one thing becomes clear: the distinction between clean and unclean did not begin with Moses.

In Genesis 7:2, Noah already knows the distinction between clean and unclean animals. In Genesis 8:20, he offers clean animals and birds to the LORD.

Then, in Exodus, God forms Israel as His covenant people and establishes His dwelling place among them. In Leviticus, He gives increasingly specific instructions concerning sacrifice, purity, priesthood, holiness, and food.

Deuteronomy later reiterates many of these dietary distinctions.

The pattern is unfolding:

Genesis → Exodus → Leviticus → Deuteronomy

God progressively reveals what it means for His covenant people to live in relationship with a holy God.

But what does “clean” actually mean?

This is important:

Unclean does not automatically mean sinful.

Something could be ritually unclean without being morally sinful.

Likewise, something could be clean without being holy.

These categories help us understand Leviticus more carefully:

Holy → clean
Clean → not necessarily holy
Unclean → not necessarily sinful
Sinful → never holy or clean

The purity laws were teaching Israel to recognize distinctions and boundaries as they lived in the presence of a holy God.

Then Jesus changes the conversation.

Jesus teaches that defilement is not ultimately about what enters a person from the outside, but what comes from the heart (Mark 7:14–23).

In Acts 10, Peter receives a vision involving animals previously considered unclean. God tells him:

“What God has made clean, do not call common.”

Peter comes to understand that the vision reaches beyond food. God was showing him that Gentiles were not to be considered spiritually unclean or excluded from God’s people.

Through Christ, the ceremonial boundaries that once distinguished Israel from the nations are fulfilled and transformed.

And this is where the story becomes beautiful.

Jesus doesn’t simply make food clean.

Jesus makes people clean.

He doesn’t merely provide another ritual washing.

He gives living water.

“If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink.”
— John 7:37

He doesn’t simply give bread to sustain physical life.

He is the Bread of Life.

“I am the bread of life.”
— John 6:35

The Old Testament repeatedly teaches us about cleansing, sacrifice, priesthood, blood, holiness, food, and access to God’s presence.

The New Testament shows us their greater fulfillment in Christ:

The sacrifice → Christ’s once-for-all atonement

The priesthood → Christ our great High Priest

Cleansing → Christ makes His people clean

Access to God → Christ brings us near

The bread that sustains → Christ, the Bread of Life

The water that cleanses and gives life → Christ, the Living Water

And the important thing is that we don’t have to force these connections. The New Testament itself develops them.

Hebrews tells us that the sacrificial system was pointing toward something greater:

“The law has but a shadow of the good things to come.”
— Hebrews 10:1

The Bigger Story

Leviticus is not a disconnected collection of strange rules.

It is part of a story that begins much earlier.

Genesis: God establishes His creation and we see humanity’s separation from Him.

Exodus: God rescues His people and comes to dwell among them.

Leviticus: God teaches His people how to live in the presence of a holy God.

Deuteronomy: God reiterates the covenant and calls His people to faithful obedience.

The New Testament: Christ fulfills the purposes toward which these things were pointing.

And the question underneath Leviticus remains the same:

How can a holy God dwell with sinful people?

The answer that unfolds throughout Scripture is not ultimately a ritual, a sacrifice, a food, or a purification ceremony.

God Himself makes the way.

And in the New Covenant, that way is Jesus Christ.

“For by a single offering he has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified.”
— Hebrews 10:14

August 29, 2026 0

The Roots of the Meek Momma

One of my favorite Elisabeth Elliot quotes has always been this:

“To be meek is to have a sane and proper estimate of one’s place in the scheme of things. It is a sense of proportion.”

Elisabeth Elliot has been something of a spiritual mother to me. I have read her words in many different seasons, and depending on where I was in life, they have felt like correction, a lecture, encouragement, or sometimes simply a soft place to land. There were times I read her words and felt as though I were being lovingly disciplined by an older woman who had walked through suffering and knew something I desperately needed to learn.

One of the things she helped me understand was that meekness is not weakness. It is strength under control. It is having a right understanding of who I am in relation to God: I am the created, and He is the Creator. I am not sovereign, I am not in control of everything, and I don’t have to be.

That realization changed the way I looked at my life, particularly motherhood.

When my son was very young, during the isolation of COVID and the months surrounding his autism diagnosis, his needs and behaviors were becoming increasingly difficult to understand. He was nonverbal at the time, and sleep became almost nonexistent. There were months when I was getting less than ten hours of sleep in an entire week.

Looking back, it is remarkable to me that I was still functioning. I was caring for my son, tending to our home, continuing to work, and trying to learn everything I could about autism while running on almost nothing.

But I know now that it wasn’t because I was strong enough. God was sustaining me.

I remember one particular night, around three in the morning, after two days without sleep. My son woke me by slapping me in the face. He wasn’t being aggressive or disobedient. He was nonverbal and simply trying to wake Mommy because Mommy wasn’t waking up.

For the first few seconds after waking, I had an overwhelming urge to hit him back.

I was angry. I was exhausted. I was completely at the end of myself.

And as painful as it is to admit that, I am grateful for what God showed me in that moment. I saw my flesh in a way I don’t think I ever had before. I saw how quickly my exhaustion could expose the sinfulness of my heart. I saw how desperately I needed a Savior.

Being at the end of myself became an invitation to stop pretending that I could be sufficient for myself.

I began learning to pursue the Lord even when I didn’t feel like pursuing Him. Sometimes all I had to offer was five minutes of Scripture or ten minutes of prayer. Then five minutes became ten, ten became twenty, and eventually those small pieces of time became hours.

Some of my sweetest times with the Lord happened in the middle of the night while my son paced back and forth or watched the same short documentaries over and over again. I would sit with my Bible and pray, asking God to change me and make me the mother my son needed.

And then there were the bathtubs.

For a long time, water was one of the few things that helped my son regulate and feel safe in his body. So I spent a lot of time sitting beside the bathtub. Sometimes for hours. Sometimes more than once a day. Because of the safety concerns, I couldn’t simply leave him there. I had to stay.

I remember lying beside that bathtub and thinking about all the things I was missing out on. Motherhood was supposed to look so different. I had imagined something quieter and more predictable.

But somewhere in those long hours of forced stillness, I began to realize that maybe motherhood hadn’t gone wrong. Maybe this was simply what motherhood needed to look like in that particular season.

And I remember what felt like the quietest conviction from the Lord:

If you cannot be still before your son, how will you ever learn to be still before Me?

Those moments of stillness, along with the long nights of being completely dependent upon God’s grace, eventually became the beginning of The Meek Momma.

I didn’t start this blog because I had figured motherhood out. I started it because I hadn’t.

I needed somewhere to put the honest emotions, the questions, the Scripture I was wrestling through, and the things God was teaching me. I hoped that perhaps another woman could read those words and find encouragement before she reached the same place of exhaustion and desperation.

Because the Lord gives us opportunities every day to turn toward Him. His mercies are new every morning.

And I think that is part of what meekness has come to mean to me.

It is recognizing that I am not enough, but also recognizing that I was never meant to be.

It is learning to live within the boundaries of my created place rather than constantly fighting to take God’s place. It has changed the way I think about my marriage, my motherhood, my work, my leadership, my finances, my service to others, and even the way I respond when I believe I know what should happen next.

It has also changed the way I understand submission.

I believe submission to a husband, rightly understood through Scripture, is a beautiful thing. It does not require a woman to become voiceless, passive, or insignificant. It is not an erasure of strength. Rather, it is one of the places where strength can be brought under control and entrusted to God.

There is something beautiful about a woman who doesn’t have to dominate every room, win every argument, control every outcome, or prove that she is the strongest person present.

There is strength in knowing when to speak and when to be quiet. There is strength in yielding. There is strength in serving. There is strength in trusting God’s order when our flesh would rather insist on our own.

That is why I love this definition of meekness so much.

A sane and proper estimate of my place in the scheme of things.

Not thinking too highly of myself, but not thinking too little of myself either. Simply understanding that I am God’s creation, He is my Creator, and my life makes the most sense when I live within that reality.

I am still learning this.

I am learning it in my home, in my marriage, in my work, in the courtroom, in leadership, and in the way I serve families and volunteers. I still wrestle with my desire to control. I still have moments when my flesh gets the better of me. But now I know where to take those things.

Back to Him.

Elisabeth Elliot taught me that suffering is never for nothing. She helped me understand that all things stand in the shadow of the cross, and that when I keep my eyes there, I can begin to count even the hardest things as joy—not because suffering is enjoyable, but because God is faithful to use even what I would never have chosen.

This is why I chose the name The Meek Momma all those years ago.

Not because I had mastered meekness.

Because I needed to learn it.

And, by God’s grace, I am still learning.

August 26, 2026 0

Come Study With Me 2: Notes from Leviticus

Notes on the Sacrificial System

Sacrifice of some kind was a nearly universal practice among ancient peoples. Israel’s sacrificial system shared certain similarities with the practices of surrounding nations, but it was also distinctly different in several important ways.

1. Israel’s Absolute Monotheism

Israel worshiped one true God, Yahweh. The sacrificial system was not created by Israel as a means of manipulating multiple competing gods. God Himself gave Israel specific instructions for worship and sacrifice as part of His covenant relationship with them.

2. Sacrifice Was Connected to Holiness, Ethics, and Obedience

Israel’s worship was rooted in the character of God Himself. Because God is absolutely holy, His people were called to holiness.

The sacrificial system was therefore connected to sin, repentance, atonement, forgiveness, and obedience to God’s covenant commands. Sacrifice was never intended to replace faithful obedience.

“You shall be holy, for I the LORD your God am holy.”
— Leviticus 19:2

The prophets repeatedly reinforce this truth: God does not delight in ritual performed apart from righteousness and obedience (1 Samuel 15:22; Isaiah 1:11–17; Hosea 6:6; Micah 6:6–8).

3. Israel Was Forbidden to Incorporate Magic and Occult Practices

Israel’s worship was not to be blended with the religious practices of the surrounding nations. God explicitly prohibited magic, sorcery, divination, necromancy, and related practices (Leviticus 19:26, 31; 20:6; Deuteronomy 18:9–14).

Biblical sacrifice was never magic. It was not a technique for manipulating God or forcing Him to provide a desired outcome.

4. Israel’s Sacrificial System Had a High Moral Character

The biblical sacrificial system was fundamentally different from fertility religions and other surrounding practices. Israel was prohibited from incorporating ritual prostitution, sexual immorality, occult practices, and human sacrifice into its worship (Leviticus 18:21; Deuteronomy 18:9–14).

Israel’s worship was to reflect the holiness of the God they worshiped.

Sacrifice Before Sinai

Sacrifice did not begin with the Mosaic covenant.

Long before Leviticus, Scripture records people offering sacrifices to God:

Cain and Abel — Genesis 4:3–5
Noah — Genesis 8:20–22
Abraham — Genesis 12:7–8 and following
Job — Job 1:5

The biblical record clearly demonstrates that sacrifice was practiced among God’s people long before the detailed sacrificial laws given through Moses.

The Mosaic covenant therefore revealed and regulated Israel’s sacrificial worship within their covenant relationship with God.

Cain and Abel: The Importance of the Worshiper

Genesis 4:3–5 gives us one of Scripture’s earliest accounts of sacrifice.

Cain brought an offering from the fruit of the ground, while Abel brought the firstborn of his flock and their fat portions.

God regarded Abel and his offering, but did not regard Cain and his offering.

The text does not explicitly state that Cain offered his “second best.” What it does emphasize is that Abel brought the firstborn and the fat portions—the valuable portions of his flock.

The following conversation with Cain makes clear that the issue was not merely the physical offering. God addresses Cain’s conduct and heart:

“If you do well, will you not be accepted?”
— Genesis 4:7

The story therefore establishes an important biblical principle:

God cares about both the offering and the heart of the worshiper.

Why Cain and Abel Matter

The story appears remarkably early in Scripture, before Sinai, the tabernacle, the priesthood, or the Levitical system.

Already, Scripture is asking:

What does it mean to approach God rightly?

Cain and Abel introduce a theme that will continue throughout Scripture:

Worship cannot be separated from the heart and conduct of the worshiper.

This becomes essential for understanding the sacrifices of Leviticus. The sacrifices were not empty rituals performed mechanically. They belonged within a relationship of covenant faithfulness, holiness, repentance, and obedience.

Noah: Sacrifice and Covenant Grace

After the flood, Noah built an altar and offered burnt offerings to the LORD (Genesis 8:20–22).

The LORD received Noah’s offering as a pleasing aroma and then declared His commitment to preserve the regular rhythms of creation:

“While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease.”
— Genesis 8:22

The passage should not be understood as though Noah’s sacrifice manipulated God or changed Him from anger to mercy.

Rather, the sacrifice occurs within the larger story of judgment, grace, and covenant promise. God graciously commits Himself to sustaining His creation despite humanity’s continuing sinfulness.

This gives us an early biblical pattern:

Judgment → Sacrifice → Covenant Promise → Sustaining Grace

A Foundation for Studying Leviticus

As we enter Leviticus, we should first ask what each sacrifice meant within Israel’s own covenant relationship with God.

For each sacrifice, consider:

What was being offered?
Who brought the offering?
What was the worshiper required to do?
What did the priest do?
What happened to the blood and offering?
What portion belonged to God?
What portion, if any, belonged to the worshiper or priest?
What problem or need did the sacrifice address?
How did it relate to holiness, sin, forgiveness, fellowship, or thanksgiving?
How does the rest of Scripture develop this theme?
Where does the New Testament explicitly connect these themes to Jesus Christ?

This allows us to trace the sacrificial system toward Christ without forcing meanings onto the text that Scripture itself does not establish.

Key Thought

Sacrifice was never merely about putting something on an altar.

From the earliest pages of Scripture, sacrifice is connected with approaching God, responding to sin, worshiping rightly, honoring God’s holiness, and living in covenant relationship with Him.

Israel’s sacrificial system was not unique simply because Israel sacrificed. It was unique because Yahweh—the one true and holy God—revealed how His covenant people were to worship and approach Him.

As we study Leviticus, we will see the altar continually teaching Israel that:

sin is serious, God is holy, forgiveness is costly, and fellowship with God is a gracious gift.

August 22, 2026 0

COME STUDY WITH ME

Notes from Leviticus

Post 1 — Meet the Book

The book of Leviticus begins precisely where Exodus leaves off.

The tabernacle has been completed, and the glory of the LORD has filled it. God’s presence is so overwhelming that Moses is unable to enter the tent of meeting (Exodus 40:34–35).

That detail is important.

Leviticus begins with a question:

How can a holy God dwell among an unholy people?

Leviticus breaks from much of the narrative structure of Genesis and Exodus and moves primarily into instructions concerning sacrifices, priesthood, purity, holiness, worship, and covenant life.

But these laws are not random regulations.

Moses’ inability to enter the tabernacle establishes the theological problem that drives the book:

God is holy, and His people are not.

God desires to dwell among His people, yet His holiness cannot simply overlook sin and impurity. Leviticus therefore explains how Israel is to approach God, worship Him, deal with sin and ritual impurity, and live as a people set apart for His presence.

The sacrificial system provided God-appointed means of atonement, purification, forgiveness, and restored fellowship within the Mosaic covenant.

Three Major Areas of Leviticus

The laws of Leviticus can broadly be understood through three overlapping areas:

1. Ritual

These instructions govern Israel’s worship—particularly sacrifices, offerings, festivals, holy days, and other prescribed rituals.

2. Priesthood

These laws concern the ordination, qualifications, responsibilities, and conduct of the priests, who served in Israel’s worship and ministry at the sanctuary.

3. Holiness

These instructions teach Israel what it meant to live as a people set apart to God. They address worship, morality, relationships, sexuality, food, ritual purity, justice, and everyday life.

And this is important:

Ritual impurity is not necessarily the same thing as moral sin.

Something could make an Israelite ritually unclean without that person having committed a moral offense. The purity laws distinguish between categories of clean and unclean, while the holiness laws also address moral obedience and covenant faithfulness.

Together, these laws teach Israel that life in the presence of a holy God requires distinction, reverence, and holiness.

What Do These Laws Have in Common?

Though the laws of Leviticus address many different subjects, several themes continually emerge.

They call Israel to be holy.

“You shall be holy, for I the LORD your God am holy.”
— Leviticus 19:2

They set Israel apart from the surrounding nations.

Israel was not simply another ancient nation with another religious system. They belonged to Yahweh and were called to reflect His character.

They continually remind Israel of their covenant relationship with God.

Their worship, daily lives, bodies, homes, food, relationships, priests, festivals, and sacrifices all existed within the reality that they belonged to God.

And they prepare us to understand the need for a greater and final atonement.

The New Testament explicitly develops the sacrificial and priestly themes of Leviticus and shows their fulfillment in Jesus Christ (Hebrews 9–10).

We should be careful, however, not to force Christ into every individual detail of Leviticus. Instead, we watch for the connections that Scripture itself develops and allows the biblical storyline to lead us to Christ.

The Day of Atonement

At the center of Leviticus stands Leviticus 16—the Day of Atonement, or Yom Kippur.

This was the great annual ceremony in which atonement was made for the sins and impurities of Israel and the sanctuary.

Two goats were selected.

One was offered as a sin offering.

The other became the scapegoat. The high priest confessed the sins of Israel over the goat, symbolically placing their iniquities upon it, and the goat was sent away into the wilderness.

These two goats vividly communicate two dimensions of atonement:

sin requires dealing with, and sin is removed from God’s people.

The New Testament helps us see the greater fulfillment of these realities in Christ, whose sacrifice is not repeated annually but is once for all (Hebrews 9:11–14; 10:10–14).

Why Leviticus Matters

Leviticus may require a little more work to understand and apply than some of the more narrative books of Scripture.

But it gives us a profound picture of God’s character and His purposes.

It teaches us that:

God is holy.

Sin and impurity matter.

God desires to dwell with His people.

Atonement is necessary for sinners to approach a holy God.

God Himself provides the way for His people to draw near.

And as the biblical story continues, these themes lead us toward the ultimate fulfillment of God’s provision:

Jesus Christ, our perfect and once-for-all sacrifice.

A Simple Outline of Leviticus

Chapters 1–7 — The Sacrificial Offerings

Instructions concerning Israel’s various offerings, including the burnt, grain, peace, sin, and guilt offerings.

Chapters 8–10 — The Priesthood

The ordination of Aaron and his sons, their responsibilities, and the judgment that falls on Nadab and Abihu for unauthorized worship.

Chapters 11–15 — Clean and Unclean

Instructions concerning clean and unclean animals, bodily conditions, skin diseases, bodily discharges, and other matters of ritual purity.

Chapter 16 — The Day of Atonement

Instructions for Israel’s annual Day of Atonement and the cleansing of the sanctuary and people.

Chapter 17 — The Holiness of Blood and Sacrifice

Instructions concerning where sacrifices may be offered and the sacred significance of blood.

Chapters 18–20 — Holiness in Everyday Life

Commands concerning sexual morality, family relationships, idolatry, justice, and separation from the practices of the surrounding nations.

Chapters 21–22 — Priestly Holiness

Additional requirements concerning the holiness and conduct of the priests and regulations concerning acceptable offerings.

Chapter 23 — Feasts and Holy Days

Israel’s appointed times, including Passover, Unleavened Bread, Firstfruits, Weeks, Trumpets, the Day of Atonement, and Booths.

Chapter 24 — Holy Things and Covenant Community

Instructions concerning the lampstand, the bread of the Presence, and the consequences of blaspheming God’s name.

Chapter 25 — Sabbath Year and Jubilee

Instructions concerning the Sabbath year, the Year of Jubilee, land, property, debt, and care for fellow Israelites.

Chapter 26 — Covenant Blessings and Curses

A covenant call to obedience accompanied by promises of blessing and warnings concerning covenant disobedience.

Chapter 27 — Vows and Dedicated Things

Regulations concerning vows, dedications, valuations, and things devoted to the LORD.

The Big Picture

Leviticus is not simply a book of strange rules about sacrifices, food, priests, and purity.

It is a book answering a profound question:

How can a holy God dwell among a sinful people?

And as we study it carefully, we begin to see the answer unfolding:

God makes a way for His people to dwell in His presence.

The temporary and repeated provisions of the Mosaic covenant ultimately point us toward the greater reality revealed in Christ—the One whose sacrifice is sufficient once for all.

“For by a single offering he has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified.”
— Hebrews 10:14

August 15, 2026 0

What Do You Pray for the People You Love?

Learning to Pray for Spiritual Growth from Philippians 1:9–11

Perhaps one of the clearest measures of what we truly desire for the people we love is what we repeatedly ask God to do in their lives.

“And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent, and so be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God.”

— Philippians 1:9–11

What do you pray for the people you love?

If someone listened carefully to your prayers for your husband, your children, your friends, your church, or the believers God has entrusted to your care, what would they discover that you most deeply desire for them?

We pray for safety, healing, provision, restored relationships, open doors, protection for our children, strength for marriages, and relief from suffering.

These are good things to bring before our Father.

But Paul’s prayer in Philippians 1:9–11 confronts us with a deeper question:

Do our prayers reveal that our greatest desire for the people we love is their spiritual maturity and conformity to Jesus Christ?

Paul writes Philippians from imprisonment. He loves these believers deeply. He has invested himself in their lives, labored for their spiritual good, and partnered with them in the advancement of the gospel.

Immediately before recording his prayer, Paul writes:

“For God is my witness, how I yearn for you all with the affection of Christ Jesus.”

— Philippians 1:8

Then Paul allows us to hear what a heart filled with the affection of Christ asks God to do in the lives of others.

He does not begin by praying that the Philippians would escape suffering or experience easier circumstances.

Paul prays for their spiritual growth.

He asks God to increase their love, deepen their knowledge, sharpen their discernment, teach them to recognize what is excellent, make them sincere and blameless, fill their lives with the fruit of righteousness through Jesus Christ, and keep them faithful until the day of Christ.

And all of it moves toward one ultimate purpose:

the glory and praise of God.

This prison prayer gives us more than a glimpse into Paul’s pastoral heart.

It teaches us how to pray for the people we love.

1. A Love That Never Stops Growing

Paul begins:

“And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more…”

The Greek word translated abound is perisseuō (περισσεύω).

It carries the idea of increasing, overflowing, exceeding, or becoming abundant.

Paul is not writing to Christians who have no love. The Philippians have already demonstrated their affection for Paul and their partnership in the gospel.

Yet Paul prays for more.

There is no point in the Christian life when we graduate from the command to love. Spiritual maturity does not mean that we eventually become loving enough.

The more deeply we know Christ, the greater our capacity should become to love the people He has placed around us.

Paul does not explicitly state the object of the Philippians’ love in verse 9. The Greek text simply says:

ἡ ἀγάπη ὑμῶν — “your love.”

Within Paul’s letters, love for fellow believers frequently occupies a prominent place, especially in the opening sections of his letters. Paul commends the saints for their love in Ephesians 1:15, Colossians 1:4, 1 Thessalonians 1:3, and 2 Thessalonians 1:3.

Given Paul’s repeated emphasis upon the love believers should have for one another, and the relational concerns that later emerge in Philippians, love for fellow Christians is certainly included and may be especially prominent here.

But Paul’s prayer reaches even deeper.

He desires a growing Christian love—love rooted in God, shaped by truth, and expressed wisely toward others.

When Jesus identifies the greatest commandments, He first commands us to love God with our entire being and then to love our neighbor as ourselves.

Love for God and love for others belong together.

We need love that abounds still more and more.

But Paul does not pray merely for more love.

He prays for a particular kind of love.

2. A Love Governed by Truth

Paul continues:

“…with knowledge and all discernment.”

The word translated knowledge is epignōsis (ἐπίγνωσις).

It carries the idea of genuine, deep, or full knowledge.

The Reformer John Calvin explained Paul’s meaning:

“Paul means that it is full and complete, not a knowledge of all things.”

Paul is not praying that the Philippians would simply accumulate more information or become intellectually impressive.

He desires a deepening knowledge that shapes how they live and love.

The word translated discernment is aisthēsis (αἴσθησις).

It refers to moral perception, insight, or the capacity to recognize what is appropriate in a particular situation.

Paul is praying for love with eyes.

Love that sees.

Love that understands.

Love that perceives.

Love that knows how to respond wisely to real people in real situations.

Biblical love is not blind sentimentality.

It is not merely being nice.

It is not avoiding difficult conversations, affirming every decision someone makes, or doing whatever makes us feel loving.

Paul is not praying that the Philippians would become smarter, but wiser in their care for one another.

Genuine love requires spiritual wisdom.

We need discernment to know when to speak and when to remain silent. When to confront and when to comfort. When to intervene and when to wait. When to give generously and when helping in the wrong way might enable destructive patterns.

Without knowledge and discernment, sincere attempts to love can become misguided.

We may offer tenderness without truth.

Or truth without tenderness.

We may give someone what they want when faithfulness requires giving them what they need.

We may avoid necessary conversations because we have confused kindness with silence.

Paul prays for something better.

Love governed by truth and guided by discernment.

Biblical love requires more than good intentions.

We need wisdom from God.

3. A Love That Chooses What Is Excellent

Paul explains the purpose of knowledge and discernment:

“…so that you may approve what is excellent…”

The word translated approve is dokimazō (δοκιμάζω).

It means to test, examine, scrutinize, and determine whether something meets the necessary standard.

Paul prays that the Philippians would develop the spiritual ability to examine the choices before them and recognize what is truly excellent.

Steven Lawson observes that some of the most difficult choices Christians face are not between what is obviously good and evil, but between what is good, better, and best.

That is where discernment becomes necessary.

We have limited time.

Limited energy.

Limited resources.

We cannot meet every need, accept every invitation, pursue every opportunity, intervene in every situation, or say yes to every good thing.

Mature Christian love asks:

What is most excellent here?

What will genuinely serve this person’s spiritual good?

What does faithfulness require in this particular situation?

What will matter most in light of eternity?

What must I say no to so that I can say yes to what God has actually entrusted to me?

Paul does not want the Philippians to stumble through relationships guided only by emotion, pressure, guilt, or the expectations of others.

He prays that their growing love, governed by knowledge and discernment, will enable them to recognize and pursue what is excellent.

We should pray the same for our churches, our spouses, our friends, those we disciple, and our children.

Lord, teach them to recognize what matters most.

4. A Love That Produces Integrity

Paul continues:

“…and so be pure and blameless for the day of Christ…”

The word translated pure or sincere is eilikrinēs (εἰλικρινής).

It communicates genuineness, sincerity, purity of motive, and integrity.

Paul is praying for believers whose lives can withstand examination.

Christians without divided loyalties.

Without religious performance.

Without carefully constructed appearances that conceal contradictory lives.

There must not be an inconsistency between what we confess to believe and how we live.

Our theology and conduct belong together.

Our public Christianity and private character belong together.

Our doctrine and love belong together.

Every area of life should increasingly become part of one integrated whole under the lordship of Jesus Christ.

That is integrity.

Paul also prays that the Philippians would be blameless.

The Greek word is aproskopos (ἀπρόσκοπος).

It carries the idea of being without offense or not causing stumbling.

Paul wants their lives to be marked by such integrity that their conduct does not become an unnecessary obstacle in the spiritual lives of others.

It matters to God how we live.

Forgiveness of sin does not give us freedom to continue carelessly in sin.

The grace that pardons us is the same grace that purifies us.

Our hypocrisy can wound.

Our careless words can discourage.

Our uncontrolled anger can harm.

Our dishonesty can destroy trust.

Our selfishness can place obstacles in the spiritual lives of those around us.

Christian love therefore requires personal holiness.

Paul prays that this integrity would characterize the Philippians:

“…for the day of Christ.”

His prayer stretches all the way to eternity.

There is always more patience to learn, more kindness to practice, more forgiveness to extend, more selfishness to put to death, more wisdom to gain, and more Christlikeness to pursue.

The whole Christian life is lived in preparation for that great day.

When Christ returns, may He find us loving one another.

5. A Love That Bears Fruit Through Christ

Paul continues:

“…filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ…”

The Christian life produces fruit.

But notice carefully where the fruit comes from.

Through Jesus Christ.

Paul is not praying for self-generated moral improvement.

He is not asking the Philippians to become better people through greater willpower.

The righteousness visible in their lives is produced through their relationship with Jesus Christ.

This connects beautifully with the opening words of Philippians and with the foundation we established in the first blog of this series.

Paul has already addressed these believers as:

“saints in Christ Jesus.”

They belong to Christ.

They are in Christ.

They receive grace and peace from Christ.

And now Paul prays that the life of Christ would increasingly bear visible fruit through them.

The spiritual fruit of righteousness begins to grow when God makes a sinner alive in Christ.

We do not love others in order to make ourselves Christians.

We love because God has made us alive in Christ.

We do not produce spiritual fruit in order to earn acceptance from God.

Spiritual fruit grows because we have been united to Jesus Christ.

The first fruit of the Spirit listed in Galatians 5:22 is love.

Rebirth is the root.

Love is the fruit.

The Christian life is not the decoration of a dead tree.

It is the fruitfulness of a living one.

And the source of that life is Jesus Christ.

This should deeply shape how we pray.

When we pray for spiritual growth in the people we love, we are not merely asking them to try harder.

We are asking God to produce through Christ what human effort cannot manufacture.

Lord, bear the fruit of Christ in them.

6. A Love That Ends in the Glory of God

Paul reaches the destination of his prayer:

“…to the glory and praise of God.”

Paul begins with love.

But he ends with glory.

The glory of God.

Choosing what is excellent.

Sincerity and blamelessness.

Perseverance until the day of Christ.

The fruit of righteousness through Jesus Christ.

And ultimately:

The glory and praise of God.

Christian love is not ultimately about making us appear compassionate.

Spiritual maturity is not about producing impressive Christians.

The fruit of righteousness is not intended to build our reputation.

Everything terminates in the glory of God.

Paul writes:

“So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.”

— 1 Corinthians 10:31

The Puritan Thomas Brooks wrote:

“The aim of the obedient soul, in prayer, and praises, and talking, and walking, in giving, and receiving, in living, and doing, is divine glory.”

God’s glory must become the master passion of the Christian life.

The way we pray.

The way we speak.

The way we love.

The way we forgive.

The way we serve.

The way we parent.

The way we suffer.

The way we work.

All of life should increasingly be directed toward one great end:

the glory and praise of God.

What Do Your Prayers Reveal About What You Want Most?

Paul’s prayer forces us to examine our own.

What do we most deeply desire for the people we love?

Do I merely want my children to be safe, successful, healthy, well-behaved, and happy?

Do I want my husband to change primarily because his change would make my life easier?

Do I pray more frequently for the physical health of the people I love than for their holiness?

Do I pray for my church to grow numerically without praying with equal intensity that we would grow in love, discernment, integrity, and righteousness?

If someone listened to our prayers, would they know that our greatest desire for the people we love is that Christ would be formed in them?

Paul teaches us to pray beyond circumstances.

That does not mean we stop praying for healing, safety, provision, protection, reconciliation, or relief from suffering.

Our Father invites us to bring every burden to Him.

But our prayers should reach further.

Lord, whatever You do with their circumstances, make them more like Christ.

Increase their love.

Deepen their knowledge.

Sharpen their discernment.

Teach them to recognize what is excellent.

Make their lives sincere and blameless.

Fill them with the fruit of righteousness through Jesus Christ.

Keep them faithful until the day of Christ.

And through their lives, receive glory and praise.

Perhaps one of the greatest ways we can love another person is to pray for what God desires to produce in them.

Behold Christ

Paul’s prayer does not leave us staring at ourselves.

It leads us to Jesus Christ.

The love Paul desires is formed in those who know Christ.

The discernment Paul requests is wisdom God must give.

The righteousness Paul desires comes through Jesus Christ.

The perseverance Paul anticipates continues until the day of Christ.

And the glory produced through transformed lives ultimately belongs to God.

Christ is not standing at the edge of this prayer waiting for us to become better people.

He is at the center of it.

He is the source of the righteousness Paul desires.

He is the One whose life increasingly becomes visible in His people.

He is the One toward whose return the Christian life is moving.

We cannot manufacture this kind of love.

We must receive from Christ what we need in order to give ourselves faithfully to others.

So when we pray for the people we love, we are asking God for something only He can do:

Make them like Jesus.

And through their lives, glorify Your name.

Examine Your Heart

What do my prayers reveal that I most deeply desire for the people I love?

Do I pray more frequently for changed circumstances than for transformed character?

Is my love governed by biblical truth and spiritual discernment, or primarily by emotion, fear, guilt, pressure, or the desire for approval?

Is there consistency between what I confess to believe and how I live?

Am I trying to produce spiritual fruit through human effort rather than depending upon Jesus Christ?

Is the glory of God truly the highest aim of my prayers and my life?

Respond

Choose one person God has placed upon your heart.

Your spouse.

Your child.

A friend.

A church member.

Someone you disciple.

Someone who is suffering.

Someone with whom your relationship is difficult.

For the next week, pray Philippians 1:9–11 specifically for that person.

Ask God to increase their love, deepen their knowledge, sharpen their discernment, teach them to recognize what is excellent,

Pray

Father, teach me to pray for the people I love according to Your priorities and not merely my preferences.

Let our love abound more and more with knowledge and all discernment. Give us wisdom to recognize the real needs of the people You have placed in our lives and teach us to love them faithfully.

Help us recognize what is excellent and give us courage to choose what is best rather than simply what is easiest, most comfortable, or most approved by others.

Make our lives sincere and blameless. Bring every hidden inconsistency under the lordship of Jesus Christ, and keep our lives from becoming stumbling blocks to others.

Fill us with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ. Produce in us what we cannot manufacture ourselves. Keep us faithful until the day of Christ.

And above every other desire, teach us to live for Your glory.

Make us more like Jesus.

And through our lives, glorify Your name.

Amen.

August 8, 2026 0

In Christ Jesus: The Little Phrase That Changes Everything

Before Paul teaches us about joy, suffering, humility, contentment, or living worthy of the gospel, he begins by telling us who we are, whose we are, and where everything we need for the Christian life comes from.

“Paul and Timothy, servants of Christ Jesus,
To all the saints in Christ Jesus who are at Philippi, with the overseers and deacons:
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.”

— Philippians 1:1–2

There are places in Scripture where it is tempting to read quickly.

The opening greetings of New Testament letters can be one of those places.

We see the names of the author and recipients. We read the familiar words grace and peace. Then we hurry ahead, looking for the teaching we assume will begin a few verses later.

But there are no wasted words in Scripture.

Before Paul writes about joy in suffering, the advancement of the gospel, living worthy of the gospel, the humility of Christ, working out our salvation, pressing toward the goal, our heavenly citizenship, or learning the secret of contentment, he begins with two sentences that quietly establish the theological foundation beneath the entire Christian life.

Paul and Timothy are servants of Christ Jesus.

The believers in Philippi are saints in Christ Jesus.

Grace and peace come from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

Servants of Christ.

Saints in Christ.

Grace and peace from Christ.

These small words reveal an enormous reality.

The Christian life is a life that belongs to Christ, is found in Christ, and is sustained by what comes from Christ.

Servants of Christ Jesus: He Owns Us

Paul begins:

“Paul and Timothy, servants of Christ Jesus…”

The Greek word translated servants is douloi, the plural form of doulos.

The word can be translated servant, bondservant, or slave. While each English word carries different associations, the central idea is one of belonging.

A doulos lives under the authority of another.

Paul could have introduced himself in many ways.

He was an apostle.

He was a church planter.

He had suffered for the gospel.

He had received extraordinary revelation.

He had been entrusted with a significant ministry.

He had theological training, Jewish ancestry, religious accomplishments, and a testimony of radical conversion.

But Paul begins Philippians by identifying himself as one who belongs to Jesus Christ.

A servant of Christ Jesus.

Before Paul tells us what he has done, he tells us whose he is.

This confronts one of the deepest assumptions of the human heart: the belief that we belong to ourselves.

Our culture tells us to discover ourselves, define ourselves, express ourselves, protect ourselves, and build lives centered around the fulfillment of ourselves.

The gospel tells us something radically different.

“You are not your own, for you were bought with a price.”

— 1 Corinthians 6:19–20

Jesus Christ does not merely improve our lives.

He claims them.

He does not become one priority among many competing priorities.

He becomes Lord.

To belong to Christ means that our bodies belong to Him.

Our time belongs to Him.

Our homes belong to Him.

Our marriages, motherhood, work, ministry, gifts, suffering, ambitions, possessions, and plans all come under His authority.

This is not the language of oppression.

It is the language of redemption.

We were once enslaved to sin, unable to free ourselves from its dominion. Christ purchased us with His own blood, brought us under His gracious rule, and made us His own.

The Christian has not moved from belonging to a cruel master to belonging to no master at all.

We have been brought under the lordship of Jesus Christ.

The question is no longer merely:

What do I want to do with my life?

The better question is:

Lord Jesus, what would You have me do with the life that belongs to You?

Saints in Christ Jesus: He Defines Us

Paul continues:

“To all the saints in Christ Jesus who are at Philippi…”

The word translated saints is hagioi, the plural form of hagios, meaning holy ones or those set apart for God.

Paul is not writing to a small group of spiritually exceptional Christians.

He is writing to all the saints.

Every believer in Philippi is addressed this way.

The struggling believer.

The mature believer.

The suffering believer.

The believer still learning obedience.

The believer who will need correction.

The believer involved in disagreement.

All the saints.

Why can Paul call ordinary Christians saints?

The answer is found in the three words that follow:

“in Christ Jesus.”

Their holiness is inseparable from their relationship to Christ.

They have been set apart by God and brought into union with His Son.

Steven Lawson writes:

“Being in Christ Jesus makes all the difference to everything.”

Before their conversion, the Philippians belonged to this present evil world and lived under the dominion of darkness. But through the saving work of God, they had been delivered from darkness and brought into vital union and communion with Jesus Christ.

They had been washed in His blood.

Given a new standing in grace.

Made citizens of the kingdom of God.

They were no longer defined by who they had been apart from Christ.

They were now in Christ Jesus.

This little prepositional phrase carries enormous theological weight.

Paul does not merely say that the saints believe about Christ.

Or admire Christ.

Or follow the teachings of Christ.

They are in Christ.

The New Testament repeatedly uses this language to describe the believer’s union with Jesus.

We have died with Christ.

We have been raised with Christ.

We are seated with Christ.

Our lives are hidden with Christ.

We are justified in Christ.

We are being sanctified in Christ.

We will be raised because we belong to Christ.

Christianity is not fundamentally the renovation of the old life.

It is not God helping us become improved versions of ourselves.

The gospel brings us into an entirely new realm of existence.

Once we were in Adam.

Now we are in Christ.

Once we belonged to the kingdom of darkness.

Now we have been transferred into the kingdom of God’s beloved Son.

Once we stood condemned in our sin.

Now there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.

The Philippians lived in a real city.

They lived under Roman authority.

They had families, responsibilities, occupations, struggles, relationships, suffering, weaknesses, and disagreements.

Geographically, they were in Philippi.

But their spiritual location was somewhere else.

They were in Christ Jesus.

Where they lived was not the same thing as where their lives were found.

Later Paul will remind them:

“But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.”

— Philippians 3:20

The Philippians lived in Rome’s world.

But they belonged to Christ’s kingdom.

They lived in Philippi.

But they were in Christ.

The same is true for every believer today.

We live in homes and communities.

We are wives, mothers, daughters, friends, employees, church members, caregivers, and neighbors.

We carry histories.

We experience failures.

We endure suffering.

We receive responsibilities.

We walk through circumstances that profoundly affect us.

But none of those things occupies the position Christ occupies.

Our circumstances describe where God has placed us.

Our responsibilities describe where God has called us to faithfulness.

Our past may explain some of the battles we fight.

But Christ defines who we are.

The Christian’s deepest identity is not found by looking inward.

It is found by looking to Christ.

Grace and Peace From Christ: He Sustains Us

Paul finishes his greeting:

“Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.”

The Greek word translated grace is charis.

The word translated peace is eirēnē.

These words were familiar features of Paul’s letters, but familiarity should not cause us to overlook their theological significance.

Grace and peace have a source.

They come from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

The Christian life begins with grace.

We are saved by grace.

We stand in grace.

We are strengthened by grace.

We are sanctified by grace.

We serve by grace.

We persevere by grace.

And one day, we will be brought safely into the presence of Christ because the God who began His work in us will bring it to completion.

Everything begins with God’s initiative.

Everything depends upon God’s provision.

Everything ends with God receiving the glory.

The Christian life is not merely difficult without the grace of God.

It is impossible.

We cannot manufacture the resources necessary to sustain ourselves.

We cannot produce our own righteousness.

We cannot regenerate our own hearts.

We cannot sanctify ourselves through willpower.

We cannot preserve ourselves by determination.

We cannot carry ourselves into glory.

We need grace.

Grace upon grace.

Grace that saves.

And from reconciliation with God flows peace.

Later in Philippians, Paul will write about the peace of God that surpasses all understanding.

Then he will speak of the God of peace who will be with His people.

But here, at the very beginning of the letter, Paul pronounces grace and peace over the saints.

The Christian does not live from an empty supply.

The fullness of Christ’s all-sufficient life flows to those who belong to Him.

We do not begin by grace and then continue by our own strength.

The same Christ who saves us sustains us.

Of Christ. In Christ. From Christ.

The late British theologian J. Alec Motyer draws attention to the exclusive place Jesus Christ occupies in relation to the Christian.

Paul’s opening greeting presents this relationship through three small but significant words:

We are servants of Christ Jesus.

We are saints in Christ Jesus.

We receive grace and peace from the Lord Jesus Christ.

We belong to Him.

We are found in Him.

We receive everything necessary for life with God from Him.

The Christian life is Christ-centered from beginning to end.

Jesus is not merely the One who saves us and then sends us away to build our own lives.

He is not an addition to an identity we have already created.

He is not one relationship among many equally defining relationships.

He occupies an exclusive place.

He is our Lord.

He is our righteousness.

He is our life.

He is our peace.

He is our hope.

He is our sufficiency.

When Something Else Takes the Place That Belongs to Christ

The truth of Philippians 1:1–2 does more than teach us doctrine.

It examines us.

If Christ occupies an exclusive place in relation to the Christian, then we must ask what we are tempted to place where only Christ belongs.

What defines you?

Is it your marriage?

Your motherhood?

Your children?

Your appearance?

Your ministry?

Your success?

Your failures?

Your suffering?

Your past?

Your political identity?

The approval of other people?

Even good gifts become crushing masters when we ask them to tell us who we are.

Motherhood is a gift.

Marriage is a gift.

Ministry is a gift.

Work is a gift.

Friendship is a gift.

But none of them can bear the weight of becoming our deepest identity.

Only Christ can occupy that place.

Perhaps you are exhausted because you are trying to produce what can only be received from Christ.

You are trying to make yourself righteous enough.

Strong enough.

Useful enough.

Disciplined enough.

Loved enough.

Holy enough.

You are trying to sustain by human effort a life that can only be sustained by divine grace.

Philippians begins by redirecting our eyes.

Before Paul tells us what to do, he reminds us whose we are.

Before he commands Christian obedience, he establishes Christian identity.

Before he teaches us how to rejoice, suffer, serve, persevere, or live worthy of the gospel, he points us to Jesus Christ.

Behold Christ

Look again at Philippians 1:1–2.

Christ is the Master to whom Paul belongs.

Christ is the One in whom the saints are found.

Christ is the Lord from whom grace and peace come.

Everything leads us back to Him.

The Christian life cannot be understood apart from Jesus Christ because the Christian life does not exist apart from union with Jesus Christ.

We belong to Christ.

We are in Christ.

We receive from Christ.

And perhaps this is where we should begin our journey through Philippians.

Not first by asking how to become happier.

Not first by searching for the secret of contentment.

Not first by learning how to endure suffering.

But by asking a more foundational question:

Do I understand what it means to belong to Jesus Christ?

Because before Paul teaches us about joy, he reminds us where true joy must begin.

In Christ.

Do I think of my life as belonging entirely to Jesus Christ, or are there areas I still insist belong only to me?

What identity am I most afraid of losing?

Where am I trying to manufacture strength, peace, righteousness, or perseverance that I can only receive through the grace of God?

Lord Jesus, forgive me for the ways I have lived as though my life belonged to me. Forgive me for allowing created things, even good gifts, to occupy the place that belongs to You alone.

August 1, 2026 0