When Success Becomes More Dangerous Than Failure

Lessons from Gideon for Christian Women Seeking Faithfulness

“We need to remember we are saved by grace when we fail, but we need to remember it much more when we succeed.” — Tim Keller

The last few days in my verse-by-verse study through the book of Book of Judges have pressed this truth deeply into my heart.

When we think of spiritual danger, we often think of failure. Falling into sin. Wandering from God. Seasons of weakness. But Gideon’s story reminds us that success may actually be the greater threat to our souls.

God Reduced the Army by 99%

When Gideon marched into battle against Midian, he did not go in strong.

He went in weak.

God intentionally reduced Gideon’s army from thousands down to only 300 men. The Lord stripped away every earthly reason Israel could boast in themselves.

What power there is in that truth.

Imagine what God can do with one percent.

In the Book of Judges, chapter 7, the Israelites marched into battle not with military strength, but with trumpets, jars, and torches. And when the jars shattered and the trumpets sounded, the Lord caused the enemy camp to turn against itself.

The battle belonged entirely to God.

Gideon should have walked away from that battlefield saying:

“This victory was the Lord’s. My role was simply to trust and obey.”

And honestly, I understand this personally.

Recently, in my own work advocating for vulnerable children and families, I found myself sitting at a table with attorneys, professionals, and a judge. I come from a background very different from many of my peers. I was raised in poverty and abuse. I do not have prestigious credentials or a polished résumé.

What I do have is a testimony.

I know the power of God.

And when the Lord allows even a small victory in my work, I have to consciously preach the gospel back to myself:

“This did not come from me.”

God uses what is weak to shame what is strong.

At the end of our lunch together, everyone stood to leave, and there was an unspoken assumption that I would clean the table and bus the dishes.

The world would call that offensive.

Pride would say:
“You deserve more honor than this.”

But as I carried the dishes away, I sensed the quiet kindness of God reminding me:

“This is good for you.”

And truly, it was.

Because humility guards the heart in ways success never can.

Serving keeps us close to Christ.

Gideon Forgot What Grace Had Done

As we move into chapter 8, Gideon begins changing.

And the shift is subtle at first.

When the tribe of Ephraim complains that Gideon did not call them into battle sooner, Gideon answers diplomatically and gently. He calms their anger with humility.

At first glance, this looks godly.

But the next interaction reveals something deeper.

When the towns of Succoth and Penuel refuse to help Gideon’s exhausted men, Gideon erupts in anger and vengeance. He threatens punishment. Later, after his victory, he returns and carries out brutal revenge against his own people.

Why the different response?

Because Ephraim wounded Gideon’s pride gently.

Succoth and Penuel wounded it directly.

And suddenly we begin to see that Gideon’s heart has shifted from dependence on God to dependence on his own honor.

The man who once hid in a winepress trembling now expects recognition.

The man who once begged God for reassurance now lashes out when others do not respect him.

Success revealed what was already growing in Gideon’s heart.

The Danger of Spiritual Success

There is a terrible danger in success.

Not because success itself is sinful, but because our hearts are desperate to believe we earned it.

We begin by thanking God for the victory.

Then slowly we begin protecting our reputation.

Defending our influence.

Needing recognition.

Wanting respect.

And before long, we are no longer serving God’s kingdom.

We are building our own.

Gideon forgot that God called him.
God equipped him.
God reassured him.
God won the battle.

And sisters, we forget too.

We forget that every good work we do was prepared beforehand by God.

We forget that faithfulness itself is grace.

We forget that motherhood, ministry, leadership, hospitality, encouragement, advocacy, teaching, and service are not trophies we earned, but gifts we were entrusted with.

Ephesians 2:8-10

“For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.”

We Still Build Ephods

One of the saddest moments in Gideon’s story comes after he refuses kingship.

Outwardly, Gideon says the right thing:

“The Lord will rule over you.”

But immediately afterward, Gideon begins living like a king anyway.

He gathers wealth.
He elevates himself.
He creates an ephod that becomes a snare to Israel.

In other words:
he rejected the title while embracing the glory.

And if we are honest, we often do the same.

We say:
“All glory to God.”

But inwardly we crave recognition.

We want to be the one people admire.
The one people need.
The one people look to for answers.

Ministry can quietly become self-salvation.

Motherhood can become identity worship.

Even serving others can become another way of trying to prove our worth.

We still build ephods.

Look to the Better Judge

But Gideon was never meant to be the final deliverer.

Like every judge in Scripture, he points us forward to a better Savior:
Jesus Christ.

Unlike Gideon, Jesus did not use His authority to demand honor.

Though He was King, He came as a servant.

Though He deserved glory, He washed feet.

Though He had every right to be exalted, He humbled Himself to death on a cross.

Jesus Christ did not come to be served, but to serve and give His life as a ransom for many.

And because of that, we are finally free.

Free from needing applause.
Free from proving ourselves.
Free from being crushed by failure.
Free from becoming intoxicated by success.

The gospel liberates us from both pride and despair.

A Final Encouragement

Friend, maybe God has recently given you victory in some area of life.

Maybe your marriage is flourishing.
Maybe ministry is growing.
Maybe motherhood feels fruitful.
Maybe people are finally recognizing your gifts.

Praise God for those things! Success can either deepen worship or feed self-glory.

It is well for us to serve.
It is well for us to be humbled.
It is well for us to remember that we are creatures, not the Creator.

So today, ask yourself:

Are there areas of my life where I am subtly seeking honor that belongs to God alone?
And how does the servant-heartedness of Christ free me from turning success into self-salvation?

May we never forget:
the victory belongs to the Lord.

May 30, 2026 0

When Faith Feels Weak: What Gideon Teaches Us About Knowing God Through His Word

Are We Letting Scripture Shape Us?

One of the greatest dangers for Christians today is not always outright rebellion against God—it is slowly drifting into a faith where our emotions, assumptions, culture, and personal experiences begin shaping our understanding of Him more than His Word does.

This can happen so subtly.

We stop opening our Bibles consistently. We rely more on inspirational content than Scripture itself. We begin approaching God through our feelings instead of allowing His truth to inform our hearts. And before long, we can find ourselves asking questions about God that reveal just how little we truly know of His character.

This is exactly why the story of Gideon in Book of Judges chapter 6 is so encouraging for weary believers, young women in the faith, busy mothers, and even mature Christians who may have grown distant from daily time in God’s Word.

Because Gideon’s story is not ultimately about a brave man—it is about a gracious God who patiently reveals Himself to weak and fearful people.

“If God Is Really With Us…”

When we first meet Gideon in Judges 6, Israel is suffering under Midianite oppression because they had abandoned the Lord and turned toward false gods.

Gideon’s response to the angel of the Lord sounds strikingly familiar:

“Please, my lord, if the Lord is with us, why then has all this happened to us?”
— Judges 6:13

How many of us have quietly asked the same question?

If God is with me, why is motherhood so exhausting? Why does suffering continue? Why does obedience feel costly? Why does life feel heavy? Why are prayers unanswered?

Gideon struggled to reconcile his circumstances with the promises of God. Yet what is remarkable is that God does not respond harshly to Gideon’s weakness.

Instead, the Lord answers:

“Go in this might of yours… do not I send you?”
— Judges 6:14

God was already at work accomplishing His purposes through a man who felt weak, fearful, and inadequate.

And that should deeply encourage us.

Because throughout Scripture, God has never required perfect strength from His people before using them. He calls us to trust Him in the midst of our weakness.

God Reveals Himself to Weak Faith

One of the most comforting parts of this chapter is seeing how patient God is with Gideon.

After encountering the angel of the Lord, Gideon becomes afraid and believes he may die. But the Lord reassures him:

“Peace be to you. Do not fear; you shall not die.”
— Judges 6:23

The Lord was not pushing Gideon away because his faith was weak. He was drawing him closer.

This matters because many Christians wrongly assume that struggling believers are immediately met with frustration from God. But throughout Scripture we repeatedly see the Lord patiently strengthening weak faith.

That does not mean God celebrates unbelief. But it does mean He is compassionate toward those who genuinely desire to know Him and trust Him more fully.

Before Public Victory Came Private Obedience

After comforting Gideon, God gives him a difficult command.

In Judges 6:25–26, Gideon is told to tear down his father’s altar to Baal, cut down the Asherah pole beside it, and build an altar to the Lord in its place.

This was a bold act of obedience.

The bull being sacrificed symbolized devotion to Baal, the false god Israel had been worshiping. By tearing down these idols, Gideon publicly declared that the gods Israel trusted were powerless.

But before God would use Gideon to deliver Israel publicly, Gideon first had to obey privately.

And honestly, this is where many of us struggle too.

Sometimes the idols in our lives are not obvious statues or pagan altars. Sometimes they are comfort, control, approval from others, entertainment, political identity, self-sufficiency, busyness, or even our own feelings.

When we neglect God’s Word long enough, we slowly begin creating a version of God that fits our preferences rather than submitting ourselves to who He truly is.

Scripture was never meant to conform to us.

We are meant to be conformed by Scripture.

What About Gideon and the Fleece?

One of the most misunderstood parts of Gideon’s story is the sign of the fleece in Judges 6:36–40.

Many people use this passage to justify asking God for random signs:

“Lord, if you want me to take this job, let someone call me today.”

But Tim Keller points out in Judges For You that Gideon was not asking for vague personal signs to help him make ordinary decisions.

Gideon was specifically asking God to reveal His nature.

Baal was believed to be a storm and fertility god tied to nature. Gideon’s request involving dew and dry ground was actually asking God to demonstrate that He alone was sovereign over creation itself.

Gideon’s faith was weak, but his questioning was leading him toward a deeper understanding of who God truly was.

That distinction matters.

Because there is a difference between demanding signs from God out of unbelief and asking God to strengthen weak faith through greater understanding of His character.

We Have What Gideon Longed For

One of the most humbling realities in this passage is recognizing that Gideon did not have what believers today possess.

He did not have the completed Word of God.

He did not know Christ as we do now.

He did not have the ordinary means of grace God has given the Church through Scripture, Christian fellowship, baptism, and the Lord’s Supper.

Hebrews 1:1–2 says:

“Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, but in these last he has spoken to us by his Son…”

Gideon’s request was to help build up his faith. God in his Grace responded twice and when we make the same request – God graciously responds by pointing us to the fullest and final revelation of his character and his purposes – the Lord Jesus.

When we find ourselves doubting God’s promises or God’s presence, we can ask him to point us again to his son saying, “I do believe help me overcome my unbelief” (Mark 924). This is what Gideon needed and received. God will do the same for us.

Are there parts of your life today where you need to ask God to point you to his son so that you can trust more fully in His promises?

May 23, 2026 0

When Convenience Replaces Obedience: A Lesson from Judges 1:28–36

In Book of Judges 1:28–36, we encounter a quiet but dangerous pattern in the life of Israel—partial obedience. God had clearly commanded His people to drive out the inhabitants of the land. This wasn’t arbitrary; it was for their protection, knowing their weakness and tendency to fall into idolatry.

But instead of fully obeying, the Israelites chose a different path.

Again and again, the text tells us they did not drive them out. Instead, they subjected the people to forced labor. From a human perspective, it made sense. It was efficient. Economically beneficial. Less costly. Less exhausting.

But it wasn’t obedience.

As Timothy Keller insightfully puts it, here we see that “convenience trumps obedience.” What felt practical in the moment became a spiritual compromise with long-term consequences. The very people they allowed to remain would later become a snare.

Even more striking is what we read about the tribe of Dan. In Judges 1:34–35, the Amorites pressed them back into the hill country. There’s no indication that the enemy was stronger or better equipped. Instead, it appears they simply had greater resolve. Those who did not know God showed more determination than those who did.

That contrast should stop us in our tracks.

A Pattern Repeated Throughout Scripture

This isn’t an isolated moment. Scripture repeatedly shows us the subtle drift from obedience to compromise.

Consider First Book of Samuel 15. God commands King Saul to completely destroy the Amalekites. Instead, Saul spares King Agag and keeps the best of the livestock. His justification? It would be used for sacrifice to the Lord.

It sounded spiritual—but it was disobedience dressed up as worship.

The prophet Samuel’s response is piercing: “To obey is better than sacrifice.” (1 Samuel 15:22)

Saul chose what seemed reasonable over what God required.

Or look at Book of Genesis 3. Adam and Eve were given one command—do not eat from the tree. Yet when temptation came, the fruit appeared “good,” “pleasing,” and “desirable.” Convenience, desire, and reasoning overruled obedience.

The result? Separation, brokenness, and the entrance of sin into the world.

In Book of Numbers 20, Moses—faithful leader of Israel—strikes the rock instead of speaking to it as God commanded. It may have seemed like a small deviation, especially under pressure. But partial obedience is still disobedience. Even Moses experienced the consequence of not fully honoring God’s instruction.

And in the New Testament, we see a powerful example in Acts of the Apostles 5. Ananias and Sapphira sell property but secretly withhold part of the proceeds while presenting it as the full amount. Their sin wasn’t in keeping some—it was in the deception. They wanted the appearance of obedience without the cost of it.

The Danger of “Almost”

What ties these accounts together is not outright rebellion, but something more subtle—almost obedience.

Israel didn’t reject God—they just didn’t go all the way.
Saul didn’t ignore God—he adjusted the command.
Adam and Eve didn’t abandon God—they doubted His word.
Moses didn’t defy God publicly—he altered the method.
Ananias and Sapphira didn’t refuse to give—they pretended to give fully.

In each case, convenience, reasoning, fear, or desire quietly replaced trust-filled obedience.

And the consequences were never small.

A Call to Examine Our Own Hearts

The truth is, we’re not so different.

We may not be conquering lands or ruling nations, but we face daily choices where obedience to God conflicts with what is easier, faster, or more comfortable.

Choosing silence instead of speaking truth.
Prioritizing comfort over calling.
Justifying small compromises because they “make sense.”
Trusting our logic over God’s Word.

Like Israel, we can convince ourselves that partial obedience is enough.

But God doesn’t call us to what is convenient—He calls us to what is faithful.

Obedience Requires Dependence

Judges 1 reminds us of something critical: God’s commands are not given because we are strong enough, but because He is faithful enough.

Israel’s failure wasn’t just military—it was spiritual. They relied on their own reasoning instead of God’s power.

And we’re prone to do the same.

True obedience flows from dependence. It says:

God, Your way is better—even when it’s harder.
Your wisdom is greater—even when I don’t understand.
Your commands are for my good—even when they cost me something.

Final Reflection

Where in your life has convenience quietly replaced obedience?

Where have you settled for “almost” instead of fully trusting God?

The call of Scripture is clear: not partial obedience, not delayed obedience, not convenient obedience—but wholehearted, faithful surrender.

Because in the end, obedience isn’t about restriction—it’s about trust.

And trust in God is never misplaced.

May 9, 2026 0

Strength in the Struggle: Trusting God in the Tension

There is a tension every Christian must learn to live in—the space where strength and struggle coexist. It’s not a clean, polished place. It’s messy. It’s exhausting. And often, it feels like there is very little comfort in the circumstances themselves.

Psalm 27 speaks directly into that tension.

It is a psalm of contrast—lament and confidence, persecution and praise, warfare and worship. David doesn’t present a neat, resolved faith. Instead, he invites us into an honest, layered conversation with God. In fact, throughout the psalm, David engages in three distinct conversations: he speaks about God with confidence, he cries out to God in desperation, and he ultimately speaks to himself with chosen faith.

The psalm begins with bold declaration:

“The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?”

This is David’s foundation. Before he addresses his circumstances, he anchors himself in who God is. His identity is rooted in God as his light, his salvation, and his stronghold. And that identity—claimed before the storm—becomes the source of his courage within it.

Verses 1–6 reveal a conversation of confidence. Even with enemies surrounding him, David declares that his heart will not fear. Why? Because his “one thing” is clear: to dwell in the presence of the Lord, to seek Him, to gaze upon His beauty. This pursuit becomes the stabilizing force in the chaos. Seeking God first, before trying to fix everything else, is what leads to a faithful life—and ultimately, where true comfort is found.

But the tone shifts.

In verses 7–12, David cries out. This is no longer confident proclamation; this is raw, vulnerable pleading:

“Hear me, Lord, when I cry aloud… do not hide your face from me… do not forsake me.”

Here, we see desperation. Honest, unfiltered need. David brings his fears, his pain, and even his sense of abandonment before God. He doesn’t pretend to be okay. He prays Scripture back to God, recalls His character, and asks Him to act.

And then, in verses 13–14, something powerful happens. David speaks to himself:

“I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living… Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord.”

This is chosen faith.

Not because everything has changed—but because he chooses to trust that God will show up. The word “wait” here isn’t passive. It means a hopeful, eager, patient expectation. It is active trust in the “in-between.”

This is the tension: desperation and confidence, struggle and strength, all at once.

And if I’m honest, this week, I didn’t handle that tension very well.

Normally, I thrive in a busy schedule. But this week felt different. I was tired in a deeper way—the kind that comes from pouring out more than I’ve been filling back up. My quiet times haven’t been quiet. My workload is the heaviest it’s been in years, with over 70 children and families I’m trying to serve within a deeply broken foster care system. Grant writing, grocery shopping, meal prepping…. The list is long.

On top of that, my mom has had ongoing medical appointments. Thursdays is a day when my office is supposed to be closed and what’s supposed to be a day of rest has turned into a full day of caregiving, emotional support, and work responsibilities. It’s been a lot to carry.

The day looked liked this:

Early morning—meal prepping, feeding fish, frogs, cats, and dogs.
Loving on my sweet boy after another rough night.
Praying with him. Opening the Word together… while trying to find a few quiet moments in it for myself.

Then it’s go time—
Getting ready, rushing out the door, navigating appointments, questions, waiting rooms…
If you know, you know.

Back home for a quick lunch.
Let the animals out.
Sit with Jackson, help with school, breathe for a second.

Then log into court—
Case after case, report after report, heavy stories, real lives.
Two, sometimes three hearings back-to-back.

And just like that, the clock resets—
45 minutes (if I’m lucky)…
Dinner. Sunshine. Evening routine.
Animals again. Wind down. Repeat.

And somehow, it all came to a head over something small—a grumpy cat with a bad attitude and a misplaced mess. In a moment, everything bubbling beneath the surface spilled out. I reacted in frustration, raising my voice, taking it out on the animals around me.

It wasn’t my best moment.

But it was a revealing one.

In that moment, I realized how much I needed help. Not just practically—but spiritually. I started looking into support services for my mom (and I’m still waiting on those doors to open), and her heart to soften, but more than anything, I knew I needed to return to the presence of the Lord.

Earlier that same day, I had felt prompted to step away from my study in Titus and read Psalm 27. At the time, it felt like a beautiful passage—but I didn’t sit with it deeply.

After my breakdown, I came back to it.

And this time, I saw it differently.

I saw the tension. I saw the honesty. I saw the way David held both struggle and faith at the same time. And I felt humbled. Because what I’m walking through, as heavy as it feels, pales in comparison to what David endured—and yet, he still chose to trust.

Scripture is full of this “in-between” waiting:

Abraham and Sarah waiting for a promised child
Joseph waiting in prison for God’s plan to unfold
Hannah waiting in anguish before her prayer was answered
David himself, anointed king but not yet crowned

These stories remind us that waiting is not wasted. God works in the tension.

And even more comforting—God understands the tension.

We are not walking through this alone. We have a Savior who stepped into humanity, who experienced struggle, temptation, exhaustion, and sorrow. He knows what it is to live in the “in-between.” He meets us there with compassion, not condemnation.

So when we fail—when we lose our patience, when we react instead of respond, when we feel overwhelmed—we don’t have to run away from God.

We run toward Him.

We return to His presence.

We remind ourselves of who He is.

And we choose, again, to believe:

That we will see His goodness.
That He is still working.
That He can be trusted in every season.

So today, I’m praying this:

Lord, help me not to walk in condemnation, but in the freedom You provide.
Teach me to seek Your face above everything else.
Strengthen my heart to believe that I will see Your goodness—even here, even now.
Help me to wait with hope, with courage, and with trust.

Because this is where faith is formed—not outside the tension, but right in the middle of it.

April 25, 2026 0

I can’t seem to move past Titus 2:3–5 lately… it’s been sitting heavy on my heart in the best way.

Paul’s words to women feel both tender and weighty: teach what is good, live what is holy.

One phrase especially stopped me—“not slanderers.”

The word we translate as “slanderers” here is actually the same Greek word for “devil” or “satan ”. That means when we speak maliciously, gossip, or tear one another down, it isn’t small talk… it’s aligning our words with the enemy. Literally devilish speech!

That alone is enough to make me pause before I speak.

Paul also calls women to be diligent—workers at home. Not confined, not limited, but purposeful. We see this beautifully in Proverbs 31—a woman who works both inside and outside her home. The heart behind it isn’t restriction, it’s a warning against idleness and a call to live intentionally.

There is something deeply holy about caring for a home, nurturing a family, and creating a place of peace in a chaotic world. Culture may downplay it, but Scripture lifts it up.

And submission? It’s not about inferiority—it’s about humility, order, and reflecting Christ in how we love and serve. It’s strength under control, not weakness.

In a world that celebrates independence at all costs, this kind of life can feel countercultural. But maybe that’s the point.

Because at the end of the day, this isn’t about roles—it’s about representation.

How we speak.

How we love.

How we serve.

How we carry ourselves in the unseen, ordinary moments.

All of it is pointing to something greater.

Lord, help me—and every woman reading this—to be a faithful ambassador of the gospel today. That matters more than anything.

April 13, 2026 0

The book of Titus is a powerful reminder that sound doctrine should always lead to transformed living. In this short but rich letter, Paul urges the church to live in a way that reflects the truth of the gospel—marked by integrity, self-control, and a deep love for what is good.

What’s incredible is how Paul engages the culture around him. He doesn’t ignore it—he understands it. When he calls believers to “love what is good,” he uses the Greek idea philagathon, a term familiar in their world and even used by philosophers like Aristotle to describe the highest moral virtue. Paul meets the Cretan people where they are, acknowledging that even their own thinkers recognized the need for goodness and moral standards—but then he points them to something greater: the only true source of blamelessness, Jesus Christ.

The same is true with self-control. Highly valued in Greek culture, yet ultimately unattainable in its fullness apart from God. As we see in Galatians 5:22–23, true self-control is not something we manufacture—it is fruit produced by the Holy Spirit within us.

To be sensible, righteous, and holy isn’t about perfection. It’s about a consistent outward life that reflects an inward transformation—a heart changed by faith in Jesus.

And this is where the beauty of Good Friday meets us. The call to live differently isn’t rooted in striving—it’s rooted in surrender. Jesus, the only truly blameless One, gave Himself for us so that we could be redeemed, restored, and made new.

This Good Friday, we remember: the gift is already given. Freedom is already offered. All that remains is to repent, believe, and receive the grace that changes everything.

Deep dive through Titus this month.

April 3, 2026 0

Where you find OR place your identity matters for eternity.

Paul opens up Ephesians by clearly stating his identity:

“This letter is from Paul, chosen by the will of God to be an apostle of Christ Jesus. I am writing to God’s holy people in Ephesus, who are faithful followers of Christ Jesus.”
‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭1‬:‭1‬

Then – In Ephesians 1:4-10, Paul immediately begins by reminding us of our identity. Our identity in Christ is that we are holy and dearly loved children of God. We get this identity when we receive God’s gift of salvation through the sacrificial death of Jesus Christ. This identity is not based on us, but rather, it is placed on us because we have been adopted into God’s family. Just like when a baby is placed into a family either through birth or adoption, they become a son or a daughter and take that family’s name as their identity. It is the same with our identity in Christ.

This isn’t because of our work, our successes or how good we try to be. We become children of God by grace through faith in Christ.

Paul wants our spiritual identity to frame our minds and thoughts. He desires to help us think rightly so that we may speak and act rightly.

An important truth is that our adoption to the Father is an action of pure love by a God who is not impersonal, but deeply connected and concerned with the objects of His love, you and I! 🥰🥰🥰

I was reminded of this powerful truth this morning – the longer I walk with the Lord sometimes I forget just how broken I was before I surrendered everything to him, and before I understood that my identity comes from him. I grew up in a deeply broken home. My father’s hands were representations of pain, hurt, abuse. My mother was so concerned with her own survival that she represented competition, coldness, self centeredness. This all led me to believe I was unworthy of love, safety, I felt as though I had no value.

Just hearing the simple gospel message had the power to begin to change me, it made me spiritually new, but it did not do the deep work inside of me to change where I found my own identity – only through diligent study of God’s word and submitting everything to him first before the world – have I been able to come to know and believe that I am my father’s daughter.

Friends, let’s not forget that our adoption as children of God comes with an expectation.
When we remember and think of the great and glorious truth of being adopted by the King of heaven and earth, and that we share in the inheritance of the King, it should result in a desire to reflect and live up to the standard of the King and His Kingdom. This means instead of just going along with what the world deems acceptable in our thoughts and our words, that we set a higher standard for ourselves to “be holy and blameless before him” (Ephesians 1:4). To be holy and blameless includes allowing the truth of our adoption to lace the words that come from our mouth and inform every action of our hands and feet. It doesn’t mean we will always do this perfectly, but it does mean that we are daily checking and intentionally redirecting our thoughts and our words to stay in line with God’s instructions. It’s not because we are guilted into it but because we desire to stay free of the entrapments of the enemy that come from thoughts polluted with lies and words tainted with bitterness, slander and harshness.

Adoption means we now have God as our Father. It means that we receive the inheritance that could only legally be given to a son.

This is profound.

#IdentityInChrist #IdentityExploration #themeekmomma #biblejournaling #autismfamily #solagratia #GraceAlone #adoption #testimony

November 3, 2025 0