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

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

Sea Creatures, Small Victories & the Kindness of God

Finding joy in the creatures God made, celebrating progress that doesn’t always look big, and learning to recognize His kindness in the middle of ordinary family life.

There are some family trips where you come home rested.

This was not one of those trips. 😂

This past weekend, our family headed down to Newport for two full days at the Oregon Coast Aquarium. By the time we came home, our feet hurt, our bodies were tired, and according to how my legs felt, we had walked approximately 100,000 steps.

Okay, maybe that number is slightly dramatic.

But my feet would like it entered into the official record anyway.

And if you know Jackson, you already know exactly why we went:

Sea creatures. Allllll the sea creatures.

Sharks. Rays. Fish. Tide pools. Anything swimming, crawling, floating, or lurking beneath the surface—Jackson wants to see it, learn about it, and probably tell you something about it that you didn’t know.

Seeing It Through His Eyes

One of my favorite things about being Jackson’s mom is getting to experience the world through the lens of whatever has captured his attention.

And sea creatures have certainly captured his… for the last 7 years.

There is something special about watching your child stand completely captivated by an animal God created—studying how it moves, noticing tiny details the rest of us might walk right past, and wanting to soak in every bit of it.

As we walked through the aquarium, I found myself thinking about just how wildly creative our God is.

The strange ones.

The beautiful ones.

The tiny ones we almost miss.

And the ones with enough teeth that we are perfectly content admiring them through very thick glass. 😂

Every single one displays something of the creativity, wisdom, and imagination of its Creator.

“O LORD, how manifold are your works! In wisdom have you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures.” — Psalm 104:24

What a gift that God did not simply create a functional world.

He created one overflowing with wonder.

And what a gift to experience some of that wonder through the eyes of our son.

But This Trip, We Noticed Something Else: Growth

We visited the aquarium last fall, so Zac and I had a pretty recent trip to compare this one to.

And this time, we could see it.

Jackson has grown.

Not just physically—although somehow these children insist on doing that no matter how many times we tell them to stop.

We saw growth in things that might seem incredibly ordinary to another family but felt huge to ours.

Jackson ate really well throughout the entire trip.

He was able to sit down and take breaks.

He handled two very full days of walking, stimulation, excitement, transitions, and activity in ways he simply could not have before.

Were there still meltdowns?

Yep.

Were there still struggles?

Absolutely.

Did all three of us have moments when we were tired, overstimulated, frustrated, or just plain done?

Oh yes.

This wasn’t one of those magical family vacations where everyone smiled peacefully at one another for 48 consecutive hours while inspirational music played softly in the background.

We are still us. 😂

There were hard moments tucked between the smiles in these pictures.

But this weekend reminded me of something I don’t want to forget:

The presence of struggle does not mean there hasn’t been progress.

Sometimes growth doesn’t mean the hard things disappear.

Sometimes growth means something that was impossible six months ago is now possible for ten minutes.

Then twenty.

Sometimes it looks like sitting down long enough to eat a good meal.

Sometimes it’s being able to take a break in the middle of an exciting day.

Sometimes it’s recovering from a hard moment just a little faster.

Sometimes it’s tolerating one more transition.

And sometimes, it’s watching your child’s world get a little bigger.

A Little Detour That Was Actually a Really Big Deal

One of my favorite examples of that happened when we decided to fit in an extra stop at Ripley’s Believe It or Not.

On paper, it wasn’t anything extraordinary.

It was just a little one-hour excursion squeezed into an already very full weekend before heading back to the aquarium.

But for our family?

It was a really big deal.

Jackson was nervous and hesitant at first.

He wasn’t particularly excited about going in. This wasn’t what he had come to Newport for. The aquarium and his beloved sea creatures were familiar territory; this was something different, unexpected, and full of unknowns.

There was a time when that alone would have made an extra stop like this impossible.

But he went in.

And little by little, we watched something change.

There were so many hands-on and sensory experiences inside that his hesitation began to give way to curiosity.

He started exploring.

He engaged.

He let go.

He had fun.

He was nervous—and he was brave enough to push through that nervousness and discover something new on the other side of it.

And then came something equally significant:

When our little adventure was finished, we transitioned back to the aquarium and continued our day.

An unfamiliar place.

An unexpected addition to the plan.

A completely different sensory environment.

Walking into it despite being unsure.

Enjoying it.

Leaving it.

And then transitioning back to the original plan.

To someone looking from the outside, it might simply look like:

We went somewhere for an hour.

But we knew.

This little one-hour excursion would have been impossible before.

Not difficult.

Not inconvenient.

Impossible.

And this weekend, it was possible.

Not necessarily easy.

But possible.

And there is something incredibly beautiful about realizing that something that once felt impossible has quietly become possible.

When His World Gets a Little Bigger

I think this may be one of the ways I want to remember Jackson’s growth:

His world is getting a little bigger.

We aren’t measuring progress by whether everything suddenly becomes easy.

We aren’t measuring it by whether meltdowns disappear.

They haven’t.

We aren’t pretending that autism somehow becomes less real simply because we had a wonderful weekend.

There are still hard moments.

There are still accommodations.

There are still things we navigate differently than other families might.

But those realities do not cancel out progress.

Instead, we are learning to notice when Jackson’s capacity to experience the world expands just a little more.

When something that once felt impossible becomes possible.

When uncertainty doesn’t completely prevent curiosity.

When he can experience nervousness and still be brave.

When he can try something unfamiliar and discover that he actually enjoys it.

When we can add one more experience to the day.

When we can transition away—and then transition back.

These things may look small from the outside.

But when you remember when they weren’t possible?

They don’t feel small at all.

Sometimes you don’t realize just how far your child has come until you suddenly find yourself standing in the middle of something you once couldn’t do.

And you think:

Wait.

We’re doing it.

Don’t Let Today’s Hard Moment Make You Forget How Far You’ve Come

There were still difficult moments this weekend.

And when you are in one of those moments, it can be easy to feel as though nothing has changed.

A meltdown can feel very big while you’re standing in the middle of it.

A difficult transition can temporarily overshadow everything that went beautifully before it.

But then I remembered last fall.

And suddenly, I could see it.

Progress.

Growth.

Maturity.

Capacity.

Grace.

Not perfection.

Growth.

And isn’t that so often how God works in all of us?

We tend to want transformation to happen in giant, unmistakable leaps.

We want to wake up one morning and discover that the difficult things are no longer difficult.

But so often, the Lord faithfully works through thousands of tiny moments that don’t seem remarkable while we’re living them.

A little more endurance.

A little more courage.

A little more patience.

One more thing that becomes possible.

And then one day, we look backward and realize:

We aren’t where we used to be.

Sometimes we have to look back to see just how faithfully God has carried us forward.

Sea Creatures, Small Victories & a Very Full Two Days

So we explored.

We walked.

And walked.

And walked some more.

We watched sharks glide through the water.

We admired creatures from the deep.

We learned.

We laughed.

We ate.

We rested when we needed to.

We tried something new.

We navigated meltdowns.

We regrouped.

And then we kept going.

By the end of our two days, our feet hurt, our bodies were tired, and I think we had collectively seen enough fish to qualify for honorary marine biology degrees.

But our hearts were full.

Because tucked inside an ordinary family weekend at the aquarium were a hundred little reminders of God’s kindness.

The kindness of watching our son experience something he genuinely loves.

The kindness of seeing his face light up over creatures God made.

The kindness of noticing growth that can be difficult to recognize when you are living life one day at a time.

The kindness of realizing his world is getting a little bigger.

The kindness of getting another adventure together—even when adventures with our family don’t always look effortless.

And the kindness of a Creator who filled His world with creatures so strange, beautiful, intricate, and fascinating that we could spend a lifetime discovering them and still have more to see.

Praise the Lord for Progress—and for Really Cool Sharks

I’m learning not to wait until everything is easy before calling something good.

This weekend was good.

It was also tiring.

There were meltdowns.

There were struggles.

There were probably moments when all three of us needed a timeout.

And there was so much joy.

Those things can exist together.

The hard does not erase the good.

And the presence of struggle does not mean there hasn’t been progress.

So today, I’m thanking God for two days in Newport.

For a little boy who loves all things sea creatures.

For a daddy who explores alongside him.

For sharks swimming overhead.

For meals eaten well and breaks successfully taken.

For an unexpected one-hour adventure.

For the courage to walk into something unfamiliar.

For transitions that once would have been impossible.

For tired feet.

For small victories that really aren’t so small.

And for growth that sometimes can only be seen when we turn around and look at how far we’ve come.

Most of all, I’m thankful for the beautiful, bizarre, magnificent creatures our God dreamed up and spoke into existence for His glory—and that He graciously allows us to enjoy.

Praise the Lord for making such a wonderfully wild world.

And praise Him that, little by little, Jackson’s world is getting bigger—and we get the privilege of watching him discover it.

July 24, 2026 0

Behold Him, Not Me: Part Six

You Took My Gods

Judges 18:21–31

One of the most revealing moments in the entire book of Judges comes from the mouth of a man who had spent chapters building a religion of his own making.

As the tribe of Dan carries away Micah’s idols, shrine, household gods, and priest, Micah chases after them in desperation.

When he finally catches up, he cries out:

“You take my gods that I made, and the priest, and go away, and what have I left?” (Judges 18:24)

At first, the statement almost sounds absurd.

Micah’s gods have been stolen.

His religion has been carried away.

His source of blessing has disappeared.

Yet beneath the irony lies one of the most penetrating questions in Scripture:

What would happen if the thing you trust most was taken away?

Because that is exactly what happens to Micah.

And in many ways, it is exactly what happens to every idol.

The God Who Could Be Stolen

There is something almost tragic about Micah’s complaint.

He had spent years constructing a system of worship.

A shrine.

An ephod.

Household gods.

A Levite priest.

He believed these things would bring blessing.

He believed these things would secure God’s favor.

He believed these things would protect him.

And now they are gone.

The Danites simply take them.

And Micah is powerless to stop them.

That is the nature of every false god.

Every idol can be taken.

Money can disappear.

Health can fail.

Relationships can end.

Careers can collapse.

Beauty fades.

Influence diminishes.

Success evaporates.

Even the things we love most can be removed in a moment.

That is why idols always disappoint.

They ask us to build our lives upon things that cannot ultimately sustain us.

Micah’s tragedy is not merely that his gods were stolen.

His tragedy is that he had trusted them in the first place.

What Else Do I Have?

Micah’s cry exposes the true object of his worship:

“What have I left?”

Notice what he does not say.

He does not say:

“I still have the Lord.”

He does not say:

“I still have God’s promises.”

He does not say:

“I still have faith.”

Instead he says:

“What have I left?”

His entire spiritual life had become attached to things he could see, touch, and control.

The idols had become his security.

The priest had become his confidence.

The shrine had become his hope.

And when those things disappeared, he believed he had nothing.

That is one of the clearest indicators of an idol in our own lives.

An idol is not merely something we enjoy.

It is something we cannot imagine living without.

Tim Keller often described an idol as anything that makes us say:

“If I have that, then my life has meaning.”

“If I lose that, life is hardly worth living.”

Micah’s response reveals that his religion was never truly about God.

It was about what God could supposedly give him.

And when the system collapsed, so did his sense of security.

Everyone Is a Worshiper

Judges 18 reminds us that every human being is a worshiper.

The question is never whether we worship.

The question is what we worship.

What do we look to for ultimate meaning?

What gives us identity?

What provides security?

What convinces us that life is worthwhile?

What would devastate us if it were taken away?

For some people it is money.

For others it is family.

For others it is reputation.

For others it is comfort.

For others it is ministry.

Even good things can become idols when they occupy the place that belongs to God alone.

Micah’s gods happened to be carved images.

Ours are often far more sophisticated.

But the human heart has not changed.

We still look to created things to provide what only the Creator can give.

The Levite Who Followed Opportunity

As Micah stands devastated, the Levite continues his journey with the Danites.

His decision reveals just how hollow his faith has become.

When offered a larger platform, a larger ministry, and greater influence, he gladly abandons Micah.

His loyalty follows opportunity.

His worship follows advancement.

His decisions are governed by self-interest.

The tragedy becomes even greater when we learn his identity.

For the first time, the Levite is named.

His name is Jonathan.

And he is a descendant of Moses.

That revelation should stop us in our tracks.

The man leading idol worship in Dan comes from the family of Israel’s greatest prophet and lawgiver.

If anyone should have known God’s Word, it was Jonathan.

If anyone should have understood covenant faithfulness, it was Jonathan.

Yet he becomes a priest of compromise.

The lesson is sobering.

God has no grandchildren.

No one inherits genuine faith through family connections.

No one belongs to God because of their ancestry.

Every generation must personally know, trust, and follow the Lord.

As Don Carson famously observed:

One generation believes the gospel.

The next assumes the gospel.

The third loses the gospel.

Nowhere is that pattern more visible than in Jonathan’s story.

The Legacy of Dan

The Danites continue to Laish, destroy the city, and rename it Dan.

At first glance, it appears they have finally found what they were looking for.

They have land.

They have security.

They have prosperity.

They have their own priest.

They have their own religious system.

Everything seems successful.

Yet beneath the surface lies a devastating reality.

Dan has become a center of idolatry.

The tribe that refused to trust God’s provision now leads God’s people further away from Him.

The consequences will last for generations.

What appears successful in the short term proves spiritually disastrous in the long term.

That is often the way of idolatry.

It promises blessing.

It delivers bondage.

It promises freedom.

It produces slavery.

It promises life.

It ends in death.

The Tabernacle They Ignored

Perhaps the saddest verse in the chapter comes at the very end:

“So they set up Micah’s carved image that he made, as long as the house of God was at Shiloh.” (Judges 18:31)

Think about that.

All this time, the true place of worship still existed.

The tabernacle was still standing.

The sacrifices were still being offered.

God had not hidden Himself.

God had not abandoned His people.

God had already provided a way to approach Him.

Yet Dan and Micah chose a substitute.

That is the tragedy of every idol.

It offers a counterfeit while the real thing stands nearby.

The problem was never that God was inaccessible.

The problem was that they preferred something else.

The Better Sanctuary

The tabernacle in Shiloh pointed forward to something greater.

John tells us:

“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” (John 1:14)

The word “dwelt” literally means “tabernacled.”

Jesus is the true meeting place between God and humanity.

Micah built a shrine.

God gave us Christ.

Dan established a false sanctuary.

God gave us Christ.

Jonathan led people into counterfeit worship.

God gave us Christ.

Everything these chapters long for is ultimately found in Him.

He is the true Priest.

The true Temple.

The true Sacrifice.

The true Presence of God among His people.

To Whom Shall We Go?

Micah’s question hangs over the entire chapter:

“What have I left?”

Centuries later, another group of people faced a similar crisis.

Many disciples were leaving Jesus because His teaching had become difficult.

Jesus turned to the twelve and asked:

“Do you want to go away as well?”

Peter responded:

“Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” (John 6:68)

That is the answer Micah never discovered.

When idols are stripped away.

When false hopes collapse.

When counterfeit gods fail.

There is still Christ.

There is nowhere else to go because there is no one else like Him.

If Jesus is all we have, we discover that Jesus is all we need.

Behold Him, Not Me

The story of Micah and Dan is ultimately a story about misplaced worship.

Micah trusted gods that could be stolen.

Jonathan trusted opportunities that could be lost.

Dan trusted victories that could not save.

All of them built their lives upon things that could not last.

Only one foundation remains.

Only one kingdom cannot be shaken.

Only one God cannot be taken away.

The invitation of Judges 18 is not merely to abandon idols.

It is to turn toward Christ.

The One who cannot be stolen.

The One who cannot be replaced.

The One who cannot fail.

The One who has the words of eternal life.

May we learn to hold loosely the things of this world and cling tightly to Him.

Behold Him, not me.

Heart Check

• What would devastate me if it were taken away?

• Have I attached my security to something other than Christ?

• Am I seeking God’s gifts more than God Himself?

• What false sources of blessing am I tempted to trust?

• Can I honestly say with Peter, “Lord, to whom shall we go?”

Prayer

Father,

Forgive me for the ways I place my hope in things that cannot last. Forgive me for trusting gifts more than the Giver and blessings more than the One who blesses.

Thank You for giving me something far greater than idols, success, comfort, or security. Thank You for giving me Christ.

When the things of this world disappoint me, remind me that You never will.

Teach me to build my life upon what cannot be taken away.

Help me to say with confidence that Jesus is enough.

May my hope, security, identity, and joy be found in Him alone.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.

July 18, 2026 0

Behold Him, Not Me: Part Five

The Restless Heart

Judges 18:1–20

One of the most sobering realities in the Christian life is that it is possible to spend years chasing what we think will satisfy us only to discover that the problem was never our circumstances.

The problem was our hearts.

As we enter Judges 18, we encounter one of the darkest and most revealing chapters in the entire book.

The stories at the end of Judges are not primarily about military victories or heroic deliverers. Samson has already come and gone. The judges have finished their work.

Yet five chapters remain.

Why?

Because the final chapters of Judges pull back the curtain and reveal the spiritual condition of God’s people during these years.

The earlier chapters gave us the bird’s-eye view.

These chapters give us the ground-level reality.

We are shown what life looks like when people who belong to God stop trusting God.

The result is not freedom.

It is confusion.

It is compromise.

It is restlessness.

Judges 18 opens with a familiar reminder:

“In those days there was no king in Israel.”

This statement is about far more than politics.

Israel’s greatest problem was never a lack of human leadership.

Their greatest problem was that they had rejected the rule of God.

And nowhere is that more evident than in the story of the tribe of Dan.

The Tribe That Never Took Possession

As the chapter begins, we learn that the tribe of Dan is still searching for a place to settle.

At first glance, that may not seem unusual.

After all, everyone needs a home.

Everyone needs security.

Everyone needs a place to belong.

But the reason Dan is still searching is important.

Unlike the other tribes, Dan had never taken possession of the inheritance God had already given them.

When Israel entered the Promised Land, each tribe received territory assigned by God.

Dan’s inheritance had been established.

God had already told them where to live.

God had already provided for them.

God had already made His will known.

The problem was not a lack of guidance.

The problem was a lack of faith.

The Danites failed to drive out the Canaanites as God commanded. Instead, they were pushed back into the hill country and forced into a semi-nomadic existence.

Years later, they are still looking for something better.

The tragedy is that they are searching for what God had already given them.

How often do we do the same thing?

God has spoken.

God has provided.

God has revealed His will.

Yet our hearts continue searching because we secretly believe something better exists somewhere else.

We imagine that satisfaction is always one step away.

One opportunity away.

One relationship away.

One answered prayer away.

One life change away.

Yet the issue is rarely our circumstances.

More often, the issue is our hearts.

Dan’s restlessness was not ultimately geographical.

It was spiritual.

The Curse of the Restless Heart

As I studied this passage, I could not help but notice that every major character in Judges 18 seems restless.

The tribe of Dan is restless.

Micah is restless.

The Levite is restless.

Everyone is searching.

Everyone is moving.

Everyone is looking for something they believe they do not currently possess.

The Danites are searching for land.

Micah is searching for blessing.

The Levite is searching for opportunity.

Yet none of them are seeking the Lord.

That observation feels painfully relevant.

Our culture constantly tells us that fulfillment is found in the next thing.

The next purchase.

The next promotion.

The next relationship.

The next achievement.

The next season of life.

We are taught to believe that contentment is always somewhere ahead of us.

But Scripture consistently points us in the opposite direction.

The problem with a restless heart is that it cannot enjoy God’s provision because it is always looking somewhere else.

The Danites could not enjoy the inheritance God had assigned because they wanted a different one.

The Levite could not enjoy the calling God had given because he wanted a more impressive position.

Micah could not enjoy worshiping God as God commanded because he wanted a religion tailored to his own preferences.

And before we judge them too harshly, we should ask ourselves an uncomfortable question:

Where am I still searching for what I already have in Christ?

Sometimes our greatest spiritual problem is not rebellion.

It is dissatisfaction.

We have forgotten that God Himself is our inheritance.

A Promotion Without a Calling

As the Danites search for a new homeland, they stop at Micah’s house and encounter the Levite we met in the previous chapter.

Immediately they recognize his voice and ask him to inquire of God on their behalf.

Notice how spiritually confused the situation has become.

The Danites are consulting a Levite who is serving at an idolatrous shrine.

They are asking for guidance from a priest who has already abandoned God’s commands.

And yet no one seems bothered by this.

In fact, they appear completely reassured.

The Levite gives them exactly what they want to hear:

“Go in peace. The journey on which you go is under the eye of the Lord.” (Judges 18:6)

Whether he truly knows God’s will is beside the point.

The Danites are not looking for God’s direction.

They are looking for God’s approval.

There is a difference.

Sometimes we approach God the same way.

We are not asking,

“Lord, what would You have me do?”

Instead we ask,

“Lord, will You bless what I have already decided to do?”

The Danites had already chosen their path.

The Levite simply provided spiritual language to justify it.

The Ministry of Self-Promotion

Later in the chapter, the Danites return with six hundred armed men.

As they prepare to relocate, they stop again at Micah’s house.

This time they take the idols.

They take the ephod.

They take the household gods.

And then they make the Levite an offer:

“Is it better for you to be priest to the household of one man, or to be priest to a tribe and clan in Israel?” (Judges 18:19)

The question reveals everything.

The Danites understand exactly what motivates him.

Status.

Influence.

Advancement.

A bigger platform.

A more impressive ministry.

And the Levite gladly accepts.

The text says:

“And the priest’s heart was glad.” (Judges 18:20)

That statement is devastating.

His heart is not glad because God is being honored.

His heart is not glad because people are returning to true worship.

His heart is glad because he got a promotion.

The Levite serves whoever benefits him most.

His loyalty is not to God.

His loyalty is to himself.

Not every promotion is a blessing.

Not every opportunity is God’s will.

Not every open door should be walked through.

The Levite’s life warns us that it is possible to climb higher and higher while moving further and further away from God.

The Land That Looked Perfect

The Danite spies eventually arrive at a place called Laish.

What they find appears almost too good to be true.

The people are living securely.

The land is fertile.

The city is prosperous.

There are no nearby allies.

There are no obvious obstacles.

Everything looks easy.

Everything looks safe.

Everything looks desirable.

The spies return and declare:

“Arise, and let us go up against them. For we have seen the land, and behold, it is very good.” (Judges 18:9)

The language sounds remarkably similar to Joshua and Caleb.

Yet there is one critical difference.

Joshua and Caleb trusted God’s promises.

The Danites trusted their own calculations.

The city looked vulnerable.

The battle looked manageable.

The reward looked substantial.

The entire plan was built upon what they could see.

There is remarkably little mention of trusting God.

How often do we do the same thing?

We evaluate opportunities based upon ease, safety, and apparent success.

Yet ease is not always evidence of God’s blessing.

Sometimes the easiest path is the path furthest from obedience.

The Danites wanted a land they could conquer without depending on God.

They found one.

The tragedy is that God had already given them a land.

What they lacked was not opportunity.

What they lacked was faith.

The Restless Heart Finds Rest

As I studied Judges 18, I found myself asking a simple question:

What is every character in this chapter actually looking for?

Dan is looking for a homeland.

The Levite is looking for significance.

Micah is looking for blessing.

Everyone is searching.

Everyone is moving.

Everyone believes that what they need lies somewhere beyond their current circumstances.

Yet none of them find peace.

Because none of them are ultimately seeking God.

Augustine famously wrote:

“You have made us for Yourself, and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in You.”

Centuries before Augustine, Judges 18 was illustrating that truth.

The tribe of Dan had a restless heart.

The Levite had a restless heart.

Micah had a restless heart.

And if we are honest, so do we.

The human heart can turn any blessing into an idol and any gift into a substitute for God.

If we are looking to circumstances to provide what only God can provide, we will never stop searching.

The Better Homeland

The tribe of Dan believed they needed a different inheritance.

Yet the Bible teaches that God’s people have always been looking for a better country.

Not merely a different piece of land.

A heavenly one.

Dan thought they needed Laish.

What they truly needed was God.

Every earthly home points beyond itself.

Every earthly security eventually fades.

Every earthly kingdom eventually falls.

But Christ offers a kingdom that cannot be shaken.

The Better Significance

The Levite believed significance would come through promotion.

Yet significance built upon position is always fragile.

The gospel offers something far more secure.

Our value is not rooted in our accomplishments.

Our significance is not rooted in our platform.

Our identity is rooted in being known and loved by Christ.

The Levite spent his life climbing.

Jesus spent His life descending.

The Son of God humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.

The path to significance in God’s kingdom is not self-promotion.

It is surrender.

The Better Blessing

Micah spent chapters constructing a religion that he believed would bring blessing.

Yet he wanted God’s gifts more than God Himself.

That temptation remains one of the greatest dangers in the Christian life.

We can seek peace instead of the Prince of Peace.

Provision instead of the Provider.

Guidance instead of the Guide.

Gifts instead of the Giver.

But every blessing was always meant to lead us back to Christ.

The greatest gift God gives is not prosperity.

It is His presence.

Come to Me

Against the backdrop of all this searching, Jesus speaks words that feel especially precious:

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)

Notice what Jesus does not say.

He does not say:

Come to a better opportunity.

Come to a better circumstance.

Come to a better plan.

He says:

“Come to Me.”

The rest Dan could not find.

The security Micah could not create.

The significance the Levite could not achieve.

Jesus freely gives.

The answer to a restless heart is not finding a new location.

A new opportunity.

Or a new season.

It is a Person.

And His name is Jesus Christ.

Behold Him, Not Me

Judges 18 is a chapter full of searching.

A searching tribe.

A searching priest.

A searching people.

Yet every path they take only leads them further from God.

Their story reminds us that restlessness is often a symptom of a deeper problem.

We have forgotten that God Himself is our inheritance.

The invitation of the gospel is not to search harder.

It is to stop searching.

To come to Christ.

To trust Christ.

To rest in Christ.

The world tells us that peace lies somewhere out there.

Jesus tells us that peace is found in Him.

May we learn to say with the psalmist:

“Whom have I in heaven but You? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides You.” (Psalm 73:25)

And may we learn once again to behold Him, not ourselves.

Heart Check

• Where am I currently looking for satisfaction apart from God?

• What circumstances do I believe must change before I can be content?

• Am I seeking God’s gifts more than God Himself?

• Have I confused comfort with contentment?

• What would it look like to rest in Christ today rather than continue searching for something else?

Prayer

Father,

Forgive me for the ways I continually search for satisfaction outside of You.

Thank You for reminding me that You alone are my inheritance.

Help me to stop chasing what cannot satisfy and to find my rest in Christ.

When my heart becomes restless, remind me that true peace is not found in a place, a possession, or a position.

It is found in You.

Teach me to behold Christ more clearly, trust Him more deeply, and rest in Him more fully.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.

July 11, 2026 0

Bonus Material: Who Are the Levites?

Why Their Story Matters—Especially in the Book of Judges

“In those days there was no king in Israel. Everyone did what was right in his own eyes.” — Judges 21:25

If you’ve been reading through the final chapters of Judges, you’ve probably noticed something surprising.

The main characters aren’t kings.

They aren’t judges.

Instead, the narrative repeatedly places Levites at the center of Israel’s darkest moments.

A Levite serves as priest in an idolatrous household (Judges 17–18).

Another Levite abandons his concubine to protect himself (Judges 19).

Why?

Because the author wants us to see something deeper than political chaos.

He wants us to see spiritual collapse.

To understand why these stories are so shocking, we first need to understand who the Levites were and what God had called them to be.

Read the Passage

Primary Reading:

Genesis 49:5–7
Exodus 32:25–29
Numbers 3:5–13
Numbers 8:5–26
Deuteronomy 10:8–9
Deuteronomy 33:8–11
Judges 17–21

Observe the Text

Before we ask what these passages mean, notice a few repeated themes.

God Himself chose the Levites.
They belonged to Him in a unique way.
They were scattered throughout Israel.
They had no tribal inheritance of land.
Their lives revolved around worship.
Their purpose was to help Israel remain faithful to the covenant.

Yet by Judges 17–21…

they are doing the exact opposite.

Who Were the Levites?

The Levites were descendants of Levi, one of the twelve sons of Jacob.

Unlike the other tribes, they were never intended to become wealthy landowners.

Instead, God declared:

“The LORD is their inheritance.”

Think about that.

Every other tribe received fertile valleys, vineyards, fields, and cities.

The Levites received something far greater.

They received the privilege of belonging wholly to God.

Their identity wasn’t rooted in possessions.

It was rooted in God’s presence.

From Judgment to Grace

Levi’s story doesn’t begin well.

In Genesis 34, Levi and his brother Simeon responded to the assault of their sister Dinah by slaughtering an entire city.

Years later, Jacob declared:

“I will divide them in Jacob and scatter them in Israel.”

At first glance, this sounds like nothing but judgment.

Yet God, in His mercy, transformed that judgment into a blessing.

Rather than being scattered in disgrace, the Levites were scattered throughout Israel so every tribe would have teachers of God’s Word living among them.

Only God can redeem a curse into a calling.

Why Did God Choose the Levites?

The defining moment comes after Israel worshiped the golden calf.

While the nation bowed before an idol, Moses cried out:

“Who is on the LORD’S side?”

Only the Levites responded.

Because of their zeal for God’s holiness, the Lord formally set them apart for His service.

They became Israel’s ministers, teachers, guardians, and servants of the Tabernacle.

What Were They Called to Do?

The Levites weren’t simply ancient church janitors.

Their responsibilities touched every part of Israel’s spiritual life.

They guarded God’s dwelling.

They cared for the Tabernacle.

They transported it.

They protected it from being treated as ordinary.

They taught God’s Word.

The Levites instructed Israel in God’s Law.

They explained the covenant.

They answered difficult questions.

They helped people distinguish truth from error.

They preserved holiness.

Again and again, Scripture connects the Levites with the distinction between holy and common, clean and unclean.

Their lives continually reminded Israel:

God is holy.

They shepherded God’s people.

Though they held no throne, they exercised tremendous spiritual influence.

They were meant to lead Israel toward faithful worship.

Their Greatest Possession

Perhaps the most beautiful truth about the Levites is this:

They received no inheritance because God Himself was their inheritance.

This wasn’t a punishment.

It was a privilege.

Their lives declared:

Nothing is greater than belonging to the Lord.

Then Comes Judges…

Now everything changes.

The Levites who once destroyed idols…

begin serving idols.

The Levites who once guarded holiness…

participate in profound wickedness.

The Levites who should have defended the vulnerable…

exploit them.

This is why the stories in Judges are so disturbing.

The author isn’t simply showing us that Israel sinned.

He’s showing us that even Israel’s spiritual leaders have become indistinguishable from the surrounding nations.

Israel hasn’t merely failed to remove Canaanite influence.

Israel has become Canaanite.

The Tragedy of Judges

Notice the progression.

In Exodus…

the Levites answer God’s call.

In Judges…

they answer the highest bidder.

In Exodus…

they defend true worship.

In Judges…

they help establish false worship.

In Exodus…

they stand for God’s holiness.

In Judges…

they abandon righteousness to protect themselves.

The nation’s spiritual decline is visible in the very people who were supposed to lead it.

Behold Christ

Every faithful Levite pointed forward to a greater Priest.

Every corrupt Levite reminded Israel they still needed Him.

The Levites guarded God’s house.

Jesus is the true Temple.

The Levites offered sacrifices.

Jesus became the sacrifice.

The Levites taught God’s Law.

Jesus is the Word made flesh.

The Levites entered God’s presence on behalf of the people.

Jesus opened the way into God’s presence forever.

The Levites failed repeatedly.

Christ never failed once.

Where Judges leaves us longing for faithful spiritual leadership, the Gospel answers that longing in Jesus Christ, our perfect High Priest.

Examine Your Heart

As you reflect on the Levites, consider these questions:

Is my greatest inheritance God Himself, or have I come to treasure His gifts more than His presence?
Am I careful to distinguish between what God calls holy and what the world calls acceptable?
Where am I tempted to “do what is right in my own eyes” rather than submit to God’s Word?
How am I using whatever influence God has given me to point others toward Him?

Respond

Repent: Confess any tendency to seek comfort, approval, or success above faithfulness to God.

Believe: Trust that Christ is the perfect High Priest who never abandons His people.

Obey: Ask God to make your life a testimony to His holiness and grace.

Pray:

Father, thank You for preserving Your Word so that we might learn from both the faithfulness and failures of those who came before us. Guard my heart from doing what is right in my own eyes. Help me treasure You above every earthly inheritance, and teach me to look to Jesus, my perfect High Priest, who never fails to lead His people into Your presence. Amen.

July 7, 2026 0

He Makes Everything Beautiful in Its Time

Finding Hope in Ecclesiastes 3

If you’ve ever read Ecclesiastes, you know it can feel surprisingly heavy.

Traditionally attributed to Solomon—the son of David and king of Israel—Ecclesiastes is part of Scripture’s Wisdom Literature. It isn’t a book of commands telling us to despair or to chase pleasure while we can. Rather, it is a Spirit-inspired record of one man’s honest observations about life in a fallen world. Through poetic language, paradox, and reflection, Solomon invites us into holy wrestling with life’s hardest questions.

He exposes the emptiness of pursuing wisdom, wealth, pleasure, or achievement apart from God while calling us to something far better: to fear the Lord and trust Him, even when we cannot understand all that He is doing (Ecclesiastes 12:9–14).

This morning, I found myself lingering over Ecclesiastes 3.

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man’s heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.”
— Ecclesiastes 3:11 (ESV)

The Hebrew word translated “beautiful” is yāpeh, which carries the idea of something that is fitting, appropriate, or timely—not merely attractive.

That changes how I read this verse.

God isn’t promising that every season will feel beautiful.

He is promising that every season has a fitting place within His perfect plan.

There is a time to plant and a time to harvest.

A time to weep and a time to laugh.

A time to mourn and a time to dance.

While our lives often feel uncertain, fragmented, and fleeting, every season is held securely in the hands of a sovereign God.

Ecclesiastes also tells us that God has “put eternity into man’s heart.” We were created to long for something this world can never fully satisfy. That longing isn’t a flaw—it’s evidence that we were made for more. We were created for God Himself.

This is why so much of life can feel like chasing the wind. No amount of success, comfort, possessions, or earthly wisdom can quiet the longing for eternity that God has placed within us.

Yet Solomon doesn’t leave us in despair.

Just a few verses later he writes:

“I perceived that whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it. God has done it, so that people fear before him.”
— Ecclesiastes 3:14

Our work is temporary.

God’s work is eternal.

Our plans change.

His purposes never fail.

Our understanding is limited.

His wisdom is perfect.

What feels like chaos to us is never outside His sovereign care.

The Apostle Paul echoes this same hope when he reminds us that creation itself has been subjected to futility because of the Fall, yet it eagerly awaits the day of redemption (Romans 8:20–23). One day, every longing will find its fulfillment in Christ, and what is now broken will be made whole.

Until then, faith does not require us to understand everything.

It calls us to trust the One who does.

Today’s Takeaway

Every season—from planting to harvesting, from mourning to dancing—is held in God’s hands. What feels fleeting is part of His eternal plan, and in His perfect wisdom, He makes everything fitting in its time.

Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is stop demanding to know the whole story and instead rest in the Author who is writing it.

July 6, 2026 0