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What If He Won’t Lead?

Kathyyee — Thu, 26 Feb 2026 19:15:00 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "What If He Won’t Lead?" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}'''To Women with Passive Husbands'''

When God unites a husband and wife, he forms a unique partnership with one primary aim: ''to glorify God by helping each other to heaven''. Until death separates them, husbands should lovingly lead their wives in following Jesus, and wives should tenderly help their husbands to do the same. They are pilgrim partners traveling to glory.

In sweet seasons, you will take strong strides together. But at times (or even much of the time), you may feel like you’re dragging your spouse along. Sin, sorrow, and suffering all take their toll on a marriage. When a husband neglects his calling to lovingly lead his wife, she can be tempted to despair.

Functionally, spiritual leadership in the home is not a one-size-fits-all calling. God allows freedom and flexibility in families depending on the abilities of those in it. That said, God expects a husband to lead by sacrificial love (Ephesians 5:25), to honor his wife and live mindful of her needs (1 Peter 3:7), to be gentle, not harsh (Colossians 3:19), and to ensure God’s word governs their home (Genesis 2:15–17; Deuteronomy 6:4–7; Ephesians 5:26).

But what happens when a husband won’t lead? How should his wife respond? How can she pursue her husband in a way that encourages him to seek Jesus and, in turn, to lead her?

'''Seven Helps for Weary Helpers'''

While no formula can fix a husband’s lack of leadership, wives are not left without hope. As his helper, you are not only free but expected to encourage him in his leading. So, consider seven practical ways you might help your husband to lead. All of these are for you individually, but you need other godly sisters and pastors to help you live them faithfully. Don’t do this alone.

'''1. Pray.'''

A wise sister once said of her husband, “It is my job to love him. It is God’s job to change him.” Since only God can change a heart, perseveringly pray for your husband. Believe that “with God all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26).

Do you wish that your husband would have greater fervency for God and his word? Pray. Do you hope for him to care about your spiritual well-being and pursue you affectionately? Pray. Do you desire for him to show more spiritual sensitivity and become more heavenly-minded? Pray. Do you long for him to initiate family devotions or express more joy in Christ? Pray. Do you want him to develop meaningful relationships with other godly men? Pray.

Wives can do more than pray for their husbands, but they certainly should not do less. A praying wife is a husband’s best friend. But he isn’t the only one who needs prayer. You are also in need of God’s sustaining and strengthening grace.

Do you need wisdom to help your husband follow God? Pray. Do you need courage to trust God when things aren’t going well? Pray. Do you need humility to not grow proud and self-righteous? Pray. Do you need grace to cultivate a tender and gentle heart? Pray. Do you need strength to endure when hope is endangered? Pray.

Jesus assures us, “Apart from me you can do nothing” (John 15:5). So, if anything must characterize you, let it be prayerfulness.

'''2. Maintain realistic expectations.'''

Unmet expectations often birth frustration. What do you expect his leadership to look like? Some expectations are realistic, like remaining faithful to the marriage covenant (Exodus 20:14; Hebrews 13:4), attending church gatherings (Hebrews 10:24–25), and pointing your children to Jesus (Ephesians 6:4). God commands him to do these things. But some expectations are unrealistic. Not all husbands will initiate morning devotions over coffee or take their families on mission trips. Not all husbands will read books at night by the fire or set up weekly date nights. You may desire your husband to lead in ways that would be nice, perhaps even wise, but are not required by the Lord.

Communication can help to clarify expectations. Have you humbly spent time with your Lord and godly sisters to discern what healthy marital expectations look like? Have you asked your husband to discuss how best to follow Jesus as a couple? Have you asked him if he has considered meeting with another godly man to talk through realistic expectations for his leadership and your helping?

Develop and base your expectations on Scripture, not on what others do or what you wish your husband would do. Wisely discern the right time to share your dreams and desires, but don’t hold him to a standard God does not.

'''3. Protect your heart.'''

As you help your husband, guard your heart from temptation. Paul warned the spiritually mature in Galatia, “Keep watch on yourself, lest you too be tempted” (Galatians 6:1). What temptations might accompany your efforts? I’ll suggest eight.

#''Pride:'' Do you look down on your husband because of how well you’re following Jesus compared to him?
#''Entitlement:'' Do you feel like God owes you? Do you think that your faithfulness to him before marriage (or since) has earned you something better than what he has given you in marriage?
#''Apathy:'' Have you grown cold and uncaring toward your husband? Are you going through the motions or striving by faith?
#''Manipulation:'' Do you use sex, cleaning, spending, or anything else in hopes of changing him? Is freely serving Jesus more important to you than changing your husband?
#''Bitterness:'' Does your soul seethe with resentment toward him? Do you dream of not being with him — or worse, that he were dead? Do you withhold good from him to spite him? Do you punish him actively or passively?
#''Disrespect:'' Do you withhold respect because you don’t see him as respectable? Are you sharp with your words in private? Do you tear him down in public?
#''Coveting:'' Do you compare your husband with other men? Do you daydream of what life would be like with another man?
#''Adultery:'' Are you too close to someone else? Are you humble enough to know that even you could be seduced into an affair?
Satan is a patient prowler with devious schemes. Be on guard, and remain honest with both other godly sisters and your husband to help you to resist the attacks.

'''4. Encourage him.'''

You can always find ways your husband falls short. And there is a time to help him see his sins and shortcomings (Matthew 18:15; Luke 17:3). But do you consistently highlight areas of encouragement in his life? Have you asked God to help you see areas where he is growing (even slightly) so that you can specifically encourage him? Do you see his gifts and commend him for the ways he uses them? Do you regularly thank your husband for the good he does? Does your encouragement to him outpace your criticism of him? Does he feel, without a doubt, that you are on his side? Are you?

If you can’t think of anything encouraging, ask God to help you see and to remove any log that may be blinding your sight (Matthew 7:1–5). The Spirit will help you. Ask him to show you how he is working in your husband so that you can encourage him.

'''5. Examine yourself.'''

While you are never to blame for any of his actions or inactions, it is still helpful to inquire if you’re doing anything unhelpful. Could there be ways you make his leading difficult? Are you high-maintenance, exacting, or demeaning? How can you make his leading more enjoyable? Ask him. Consider discussing these questions with another godly sister to ensure your heart is as pure as it can be before God.

'''6. Gently prod him.'''

Submission isn’t a call to passivity or subjugation but a call to flourish under the wing of your husband. This means that you are free and at times even responsible for initiating your family’s pursuit of God. His leadership is helped by your active assistance. I can’t tell you how many times God has used my wife’s thoughtful suggestions and godly example to help me step up.

Maybe you could invite him to use an evening differently: “I think I’m going to do some reading and praying tonight rather than watch our show. Feel free to relax or to join me.” Or, “I thought we could read some Scripture with the kids after dinner tonight. Do you have any suggestions?” Or, “I think God wants us to share our faith with our neighbors. What do you think about having them over for dinner?”

Prayerfully consider creative ways to encourage godly relationships for your husband. Offer for him to take the night and hang out with friends from church. Consider asking him if it’s okay to go on a double date with a couple that could be a good influence on your family. Be willing, as you’re able, to sacrifice in order to make these relationships happen.

There’s often a fine line between trying to help and manipulating. You’ll slip past that line at times, but God’s grace abounds, and he will help you (Hebrews 4:14–16).

'''7. Value perspective and perseverance.'''

Change rarely happens quickly. Waiting can be painful, especially if you sense you are withering. But remember that God is not only working in your husband. He is also working in you. As you wait upon the Lord, remember that opportunities abound for you to grow. Some of the godliest women I know are ones who have endured long, challenging seasons with spiritually lethargic husbands. As they have waited, God has helped them to grow in desperation for Jesus, not their husband. Remember: you do not need your husband to be what only Jesus can be.

Whatever your circumstance, keep looking to Jesus and pleading with him to grow your husband’s faith. And as you do, your faith will grow as well. Why? Because you’re focused on the glory of Jesus, not the grief of your circumstances. Here, you will mature in prayer, find joy in God, and deepen your dependence on him.

'''Look to That Day'''

Alongside these seven suggestions, I will add a brief word about dangerous marriages. Living with a fellow sinner will be difficult and disappointing. Any sin against us hurts. However, some marriages are truly dangerous because a husband harms his wife verbally, physically, or sexually. While you must be careful not to bear false witness against your husband (Exodus 20:16), God does not call you to suffer genuine harm in silence. He has given pastors and police to protect you (Acts 20:28–30; Romans 13:4). If you are in real danger, please seek help.

But for all other wives, remember that someday soon, you and your husband will stand before Jesus. On that great day, you will give an account not for how he lived but for how you lived. Lean upon God’s grace today, no matter what difficulty may come. Because when you hear, “Well done, good and faithful servant,” all your pains will be worth it. And, Lord willing, your husband will look over at you and say, “Because of your help, I gave a better account. Thank you.” The Lord is able. Keep trusting.

What If He Won’t Lead?

Kathyyee — Thu, 26 Feb 2026 19:14:45 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}'''To Women with Passive Husbands''' When God unites a husband and wife, he forms a unique partnership with one primary aim: ''to glorify God by helping each other to he...'

Dress Your Heart for Worship

Kathyyee — Thu, 26 Feb 2026 19:04:32 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "Dress Your Heart for Worship" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}Are you ever surprised at the state you’re in when you arrive at church? The decent clothes you don only paper over a reluctant and doubting heart. Or a fight ensued in the car — not a new fight, just the same old predictable tension. During the opening songs, you can’t focus. In the company of saints, shiny hooks with tempting bait drop all around you: Here, take a delicious, judgy bite about his marriage. Chomp down on that anger-lure as you remember what she said. Snack on the envy of a guy who didn’t deserve his success.

Wild thoughts swing through your mind during God’s praises. ''What in the world is the matter with me?'' you ask yourself.

Remarkably, a seventeenth-century poet and Church of England pastor knew just what we go through. In his brief poem “Aaron,” George Herbert prepares for church by comparing himself to Israel’s first priest, recalling the description in Exodus 28 of all the accoutrements of holiness in which Aaron dressed as a representative of both the Lord and his people. Dismayed, Herbert honestly describes his present state. (I’ll adjust the last line to help us make the connection.)

<blockquote>Profaneness in my Head, 
Defects and darkness in my breast, 
A noise of passions ringing me for dead 
Unto a place where there is no rest, 
[For worship] thus am I dressed.</blockquote>

That description resonates with many of my Sunday mornings. I should be preparing with holy thoughts, but “profaneness” with all its distractions races around my head. From my heart should flow ardent love for my Savior. But such affection gets clogged by the “defects and darkness” that inhabit me. While the little bells on Aaron’s robe sounded harmony with God’s will, I have “a noise of passions” that deadens my praise.

Herbert knows me. What am I to do? Thankfully, the poem shows two ways forward.

'''1. Confess Your Shabbiness'''

The poet’s honesty is itself a strategy for combating the onslaught of discord that prevents full-hearted worship. If I get lost in dismay over what pops into my head or seizes my heart, the Accuser will be in my ear. “What kind of Christian are you? You don’t deserve to be here. If they only knew . . .” I’m in a losing battle if I simply try to block out all the horrible thoughts and discordant feelings that wind through me. Futile is my resolution: “If I try really hard to be super good and holy focused, maybe they’ll leave me alone this week.” They won’t.

Far better is greeting them as unwelcome yet persistent visitors from the neighborhood of my life. For example: “Oh, are you back, Madam Pride? That’s another outrageous suggestion about my importance. But this morning, no thanks. Just keep on walking until you exit by the back door. Ah, I recognize you, Dr. Control. Yes, it would be nice if everyone had to do it my way. But as you know, that’s never going to happen. So, keep moving. My, that’s most graphic, Mr. Lust! But not very original. You’ve used that one before. Now, all of you lot just pass right through and go out the back door. I’ll deal with you later.”

Herbert knows we must not deny the reality of these “defects and darkness.” Nor can we let the shame of realizing what’s really inside us ruin our worship. We own their presence and then tell them where to go.

'''2. Dress Yourself in Christ'''

Of course, merely dismissing these internal foes is not enough. We need a better tune circulating in us, one that arises from a deeper, higher Source. Here’s where the literal meaning of ''repent'' assists us. To “change one’s mind” means turning to another source of thought and feeling — to another personality, someone outside of us yet truly connected to us. This is one very practical benefit of gazing on Jesus. He is a better head for us (Ephesians 4:15). He has different thoughts to pour through us. He has better feelings to inspire in us. As we prepare for worship, we can choose intentionally and consciously to rely on our union with him. Here’s how Herbert puts it:

<blockquote>Only Another Head 
I have, another heart and Breast, 
Another music, making live not Dead, 
Without whom I could have no Rest, 
In him I am well dressed.</blockquote>

The third line of this stanza is the very center of the poem. It’s the turning point. There is another music. This one neither slays the poet nor shames him. Rather, it lifts Herbert out of discord into harmony.

The poet’s affection rises as he considers this further:

<blockquote>Christ is my only Head, 
My alone only heart and Breast, 
My only music, striking me even dead, 
That to the old man I may Rest, 
And be in him new Dressed.<?blockquote>

“My alone only heart.” There is a childlike ardor in these words. My alone only. You’re my all, Jesus, the one I most deeply want. You’re the heart of my own heart. You’re my true life. Without you, I am left for dead in the old self. With you, the old self is left for dead while I live in the new life you have for me.

Every Sunday — indeed, every day — we can begin with a time of reckoning akin to Herbert’s poem. What am I called to be? God’s own child and devoted worshiper. But what is within me? Profaneness, defects and darkness, a noise of passions. I deny nothing. But who is Christ Jesus? The head of his new creation. And he has joined me to himself. I can get dressed in Christ and all his benefits right now (Romans 13:14).

The very music of our lives can and will be tuned by our Savior. The more we let the song of his life sound through heart and mind and soul, the more our little story gets taken up in his huge story of redemption. He lives in us. So, we can be the Aarons we are called to be in worship. Christ in us is the music that makes us alive. Clothed in him, we can arrive at worship with the words of Herbert’s triumphant conclusion: “Come people, Aaron’s dressed!”

Dress Your Heart for Worship

Kathyyee — Thu, 26 Feb 2026 19:03:41 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}Are you ever surprised at the state you’re in when you arrive at church? The decent clothes you don only paper over a reluctant and doubting heart. Or a fight ensued in...'

Lord, Unleash Your Word Through Me

Kathyyee — Thu, 26 Feb 2026 18:58:33 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "Lord, Unleash Your Word Through Me" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}'''A Stirring Prayer for Preachers'''

I know you pray as you compose sermons. You probably include some kind of prayer for illumination before Scripture is read and exposited in your services. But what if there were a way to sharpen and hone these prayers? What if a consecrated master of language left us words to help us pray before we preach?

The seventeenth-century poet and pastor George Herbert concluded his book ''The Country Parson'' with “The Author’s Prayer Before Sermon.” When I make this prayer my own, passion to preach leaps in me; the joy of the story of our redemption unites with the gravity of the task of proclamation. I hope to stoke the flame of your preaching by highlighting seven movements in Herbert’s prayer.

'''1. Acclaim the Creator.'''

Before we prepare or actually preach, we look up from ourselves to the one who made us. Herbert opens with adoration:

<blockquote>O Almighty and ever-living Lord God! 
Majesty, and Power, and Brightness and Glory!</blockquote>

Simply naming these attributes of the triune God lifts us, and our hearers, into affectionate awareness. An essential purpose of every worship service is to “seek the things that are above, where Christ is” (Colossians 3:1). In a secular age full of distractions, our people need to be reminded that they were created by God for the glory of God. Herbert continues,

<blockquote>You are our Creator, and we your work. 
Your hands both made us, and also made us lords of all your creatures; 
giving us one world in ourselves, and another to serve us; 
Then you placed us in Paradise, and were proceeding still on in your 
favors . . .</blockquote>

We are not an accident. We were personally fashioned by God and placed upon earth to live harmoniously and rule benevolently. Our very bodies are “fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14) — as is the world around us. Life is so much more than our daily grinds!

'''2. Admit our plight.'''

Yet the story of the fall can never be far from our proclamation.

<blockquote>. . . until we interrupted your counsels, 
disappointed your purposes, and 
sold our God, our glorious, our gracious God for an apple. 
O write it! O brand it in our foreheads forever: 
for an apple once we lost our God, and still lose him for no more; 
for money, for meat, for diet . . .</blockquote>

Herbert shocks us with the ridiculous trade our first parents made in the garden. We exchanged our God for a mere piece of fruit! This primal sin gets repeated in every life in every age. We still toss away “our glorious, our gracious God” for the same old silly temptations.

In just a few lines of prayer, Herbert reminds his congregation of their beautifully high purpose and their cataclysmic failure to fulfill it.

'''3. Extol God’s mercy.'''

Now embarrassed and needy, Herbert returns to the character of God to find hope for our plight:

<blockquote>But you Lord are patience, and pity, and sweetness, and love; 
therefore we sons of men are not consumed. 
You have exalted your mercy above all things and 
you have made our salvation, not our punishment, to be your glory: 
so that then where sin abounded, not death, but grace superabounded.</blockquote>

As godly leaders in Israel often did when the consequences of sin brought calamity to the nation, Herbert returns to adoration. What other god is like ours? He would be justified (and glorified) if he enacted the punishment due for our sin. Our Lord could exalt his holiness in our incineration and still be in the right. But he does not.

Salvation, not punishment, is at the heart of the glory of God (Ephesians 1:2–6). Grace has ''superabounded,'' overwhelming sin and death. This is who our God is!

'''4. Marvel at the Savior.'''

The central section of the prayer recalls just how the triune God undertook to save us.

<blockquote>Accordingly, when we had sinned beyond any help in heaven or earth, 
then you said, Lo, I come! 
Then did the Lord of life, unable himself to die, contrive to do it. 
He took flesh, he wept, he died; for his enemies he died; 
even for those that derided him then, and still despise him.</blockquote>

<blockquote>Blessed Savior! Many waters could not quench your love! 
Nor no pit overwhelm it. But though the streams of your blood 
were current through darkness, grave and hell; 
yet by these your conflicts, and seemingly hazards, 
you did rise triumphant, and therein made us victorious.</blockquote>

The gospel is Jesus Christ in all the saving events of his incarnate life (2 Timothy 2:8). So, Herbert rehearses the story through doxology.

In half a sentence, he paints our desperation: “When we had sinned beyond any help in heaven or earth.” We were lost as lost can be. Yet the triune God conspired to rescue us; the Author entered the story. “Lo, I come!” What a declaration. Herbert takes us back to God’s words in Isaiah 59:16: “He saw that there was no man, and wondered that there was no one to intercede; then his own arm brought him salvation.” He came ''in person.''

Herbert prays the plot in three verbs: “He took flesh, he wept, he died.” Jesus’s sinless life led to his atoning death. Herbert makes sure we don’t overlook the paradox of this salvation. By definition, the one who has life in himself cannot die (John 5:26). Yet “the only wise God” found a way for Life himself to die (Romans 16:27). This scheme fooled the devil, the Romans, the religious leaders, and even the disciples. The eternal Son took up human flesh so that he could not only live faithfully in our flesh but also be pierced and hung out to die.

With wonder, Herbert extols Christ’s death for his enemies — all of us. His royal blood ran through “darkness, grave and hell” on our behalf. After recounting these “hazards,” Herbert marvels at the sudden turn of resurrection triumph, which has now become, astoundingly, our victory as well.

'''5. Ask for help.'''

Herbert’s prayer now follows Christ’s love that pours into the present day through the power of preaching:

<blockquote>Neither does your love yet stay here! 
For this word of your rich peace and reconciliation 
you have committed not to thunder, or angels, but to silly and sinful men: 
even to me, pardoning my sins and bidding me go feed the people of your love. . . .</blockquote>

<blockquote>Your unworthy servant speaks unto them: 
Lord Jesu! Teach me, that I may teach them: 
sanctify, enable all my powers, that in their full strength 
they may deliver your message reverently, readily, faithfully and 
fruitfully.</blockquote>

If ever we dare to take our preparation lightly, relying on a glib tongue to wing it on Sunday, this prayer will cure us. The news of “rich peace and reconciliation” has no other channel to reach the world. Astonishing as it may seem, God has committed the gospel message to “silly and sinful men.” O Jesus, help me! Who is fit for such a task?

Then comes some assurance: Christ’s reconciliation covers even the preacher’s sins. And he calls us to feed “the people of [his] love.” Why spend countless hours mining difficult texts? Why labor to prepare for Sundays? Because these are the people Jesus has given you to feed — people he loves! They hear the Shepherd through you.

In humility, Herbert goes on to make the essential preacher’s prayer in eight words: “Teach thou me, that I may teach them.” That’s our petition; that’s our life. Excavate the word in order to invigorate the people. Rely utterly on Jesus’s assurance: “How much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!” (Luke 11:13). Ask. All the time.

Renewed in passion for this task, Herbert offers back to God the gifts he’s given that they might increase to their “full strength.” He begs God to preach fruitfully.

'''6. Pray for the church.'''

As the people stand for the Scripture reading, Herbert remembers that worship on the Lord’s Day is happening not just in his little congregation in Bemerton. All over England — indeed, all over the world — Christ’s people rise to receive the word read and preached:

<blockquote>Lo, we stand here, beseeching you to bless your word, wherever spoken 
this day throughout the universal Church.</blockquote>

<blockquote>O make it a word of power and peace, 
to convert those who are not yet yours, and to confirm those that are. 
O let not our foolish and unworthy hearts rob us of the continuance 
of this your sweet love: but pardon our sins and perfect what you have begun.</blockquote>

<blockquote>Ride on, Lord! because of the word of truth and meekness and 
righteousness. . . . Especially, bless this portion here assembled 
together, with your unworthy servant speaking unto them.</blockquote>

We can feel the energy rising as Herbert makes ready to preach. He prays that the word would “convert” the lost and “confirm” the found. He prays against the foolishness of human hearts that could rob his listeners of an encounter with Christ. As if waving palms along Jesus’s way to Jerusalem, he exhorts Jesus to enter the assembly with saving power.

I can’t help but think of the late Harry Reader’s practice of going to the empty sanctuary on Saturday afternoons. He would walk the pews, seeing in his mind’s eye the people who usually occupy those places. He would pray for Christ to meet them in truth and mercy the next morning. Herbert’s prayer shows that he too had already thought about the kinds of people who might attend and what they might need to hear most.

'''7. Petition for the preaching moment.'''

Finally, Herbert prays for the event at hand:

<blockquote>O make your word a swift word, passing from the ear to the heart, 
from the heart to the life and conversation: 
that as the rain returns not empty, so neither may your word, but 
accomplish that for which it is given. 
O Lord hear, O Lord forgive! O Lord, harken, and do so for your blessed 
Son’s sake, in whose sweet and pleasing words we say, “Our Father . . .”</blockquote>

I hear his conclusion like this: “Lord, don’t let these words fall on deaf ears! Get them down into the heart. Then set them loose in the daily work and talk of your people. You promised that your word would not return to you empty but would accomplish all you purpose (Isaiah 55:11). Make it so even now. Let us not leave this place the same!” Then Herbert closes with the words he did not invent but which Jesus himself gave us to pray.

If we dare to take up Herbert’s example, what might God do with such a prayer-soaked sermon? Shall we try?

Lord, Unleash Your Word Through Me

Kathyyee — Thu, 26 Feb 2026 18:57:53 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}'''A Stirring Prayer for Preachers''' I know you pray as you compose sermons. You probably include some kind of prayer for illumination before Scripture is read and expo...'

He Fills Our Nothing with Everything

Kathyyee — Thu, 26 Feb 2026 18:41:07 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "He Fills Our Nothing with Everything" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}

<blockquote>Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 5:3)</blockquote>

Poverty of spirit provides the path to the riches of Jesus. Who would have expected ''that?''

When I read the Gospels, Jesus sure seems to enjoy teaching through paradox. He deliberately flips expectations upside down. What a way to start a sermon: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:3). Really? Happy are those who are low? Fulfilled are those who are empty? Joyous are the sad? It seems to make no sense.

When I first hear “poor in spirit,” I think of the ways I ''don’t'' want to be. Dejected. Blue. Diminished. Inert. Hopeless. Stuck. Depressed. How can these states be a way into the kingdom of God’s glorious reign, where all is just and right and harmonious?

Just as Jesus wants, to understand him we listeners have to keep reflecting. Then, like a bomb on a timer, Jesus’s words go off inside us. ''Oh, that’s what he meant!'' These reversals are true. The way up runs via the way down. Somehow, paucity of soul really can lead us to splashing in the overflow of heaven’s bounty.

“Poor in spirit” means openly admitting complete dependence on God for our very survival. This first beatitude assures us that Jesus turns our genuine humility into thriving.

'''Pictures of the Blessed Poor'''

To help such a paradoxical truth to bloom within us, we can press into the encounters Jesus had with people who were desperately poor in spirit.

Mark 5:21–43 recounts two healing stories entwined as one episode. First we meet Jairus the synagogue leader achingly concerned for his dying daughter. Then we encounter an unnamed woman weakened for years by continuous menstrual bleeding. Both present dire physical needs. Both display the soul poverty that releases kingdom bounty. In so doing, both enact the great faith that makes a transforming connection to Jesus.

'''Their Dire Need'''

The scene opens with Jesus’s return by boat to the Jewish shores of the Sea of Galilee. A great crowd immediately forms around him. The competent, influential man in charge of local synagogue services threads his way through the throng to Jesus. Does Jairus come proudly? Is he full of himself and, therefore, like so many other religious leaders, full of demands on Jesus? No, he falls on his face at the feet of Christ. He takes the posture of a complete supplicant. He abases his rank in order to request — urgently and humbly — a boon from Jesus.

Jairus’s words reveal an earnest man motivated by all the love a father can have for his twelve-year-old daughter in a dire state. We can render the Greek of what Jairus spoke in verse 23 as “My little daughter is holding at the end.” In other words, “She’s at her last gasp. Death has reached out its icy hand, and it seems to have taken hold of her.” There’s absolutely no proud entitlement in what Jairus then asks of Jesus. I hear it this way: “Won’t you come? Lay your hands on her that she might be saved from this peril. Your touch would make her well. Then, instead of death, she could lay hold of life once again. Please.”

In a myriad of ways, need bankrupts our illusion of autonomy. When it does, do we go on stubbornly standing, pretending and proud in our tatters? Or, like Jairus, can we find the blessing of being utterly poor in spirit, accepting it as the path to our Savior?

Jesus starts out for Jairus’s home. The multitude moves with him. But now urgency drives another person to wrestle her way through the crowd. Mark describes not only her physical infirmity but the poverty of spirit created by this continual discharge of blood. This woman had spent all she had over all those years on medical procedures. Mark tells us, with no small understatement, she “suffered much under many physicians” (verse 26). They had not only failed to bring healing, but this ailing woman had grown worse. She must have wondered if she would ever get well. Imagine how much she had internalized the word used for her religious status: ''unclean''. Not fit for human contact. Too tainted for the assembly of God’s people. A pariah to be shunned.

How easily we feel connections to her. We recall situations where life bleeds out of us, and we lose hope that we will ever live fully again. Our confidence gets shattered, and we begin to internalize this diminishment as who we are. Yes, we know this woman.

'''His Kingdom Fullness'''

When all worldly hope had proved vain, faith yet leaps up in her at the sight of Jesus. She feels sure that one touch of his would heal her. She wouldn’t even need the polluting skin-to-skin contact. Just a brush against his robe would do. This woman thinks so little of her power and so much of Christ’s.

Then we can only admire her honesty when she comes forward after Jesus asks, “Who touched my garments?” (verse 30). Like Jairus, she falls down before Jesus. She admits that she, the unclean one, has potentially soiled Jesus. He could have been furious. But instead, he blesses the woman poor in spirit with redeeming words even better than the physical healing. “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace” (verse 34). Jesus loves her like Jairus loves his daughter. He claims her as part of his family. She can return to communion with God and the community of his people. Bold faith from humble need has led to her redemption at every level. The kingdom of heaven flows into the poor in spirit.

With this interruption, by the time Jesus arrives at Jairus’s house, his little girl has died. The neighbors coldly declare there is no longer any need to bring in this rabbi. Jesus simply says to Jairus, “Do not fear, only believe” (verse 36). Surely the thought crosses Jairus’s mind that this has been a fool’s errand. He could send Jesus away and go join the mourners. But instead, he leads Jesus to the girl’s bedside. Jairus is all in, even as the mourners ridicule Jesus. And then Christ takes the little girl by the hand and raises her!

'''‘I Can’t, But Jesus Can’'''

Both Jairus and the bleeding woman reveal that “poor in spirit” can mean “full of faith.” Jesus prizes this humble trust. The posture of “I can’t, but Jesus can” leads to the overflow of heaven’s kingdom down into earthly lives. Instead of being self-sufficient, these believers become ''self-dispossessed''. Their dire need becomes a gift.

We would never choose their situations. Yet I feel sure that, even now, Jairus and the healed woman would say they wouldn’t trade those hours, days, and even years of open need for anything in the universe. Poor in spirit led them to Jesus. Their open-hearted, open-handed supplication revealed their abandoned trust in Christ. Only he could fill their need — and only when they embraced their emptiness.

So, how about us? Shall we not surrender our pride and offer up these situations in which we are empty of solutions? We too can leap all in with trust and then watch for Jesus’s surprising response. Poverty of spirit still provides the path to the riches of Jesus.

He Fills Our Nothing with Everything

Kathyyee — Thu, 26 Feb 2026 18:40:22 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}} <blockquote>Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 5:3)</blockquote> Poverty of spirit provides the path to the riches of Jesus....'

Who Needs to Hear Your Hard Words?

Kathyyee — Thu, 26 Feb 2026 17:15:04 GMT

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{{info}}

<blockquote>Exhort one another every day, as long as it is called “today,” that none of you may be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin. (Hebrews 3:13)</blockquote>

You know the experience. Someone in your church or among your friends says something distasteful, does something concerning. A little alarm bell goes off inside you, but you decide not to say anything. Surely it’s an anomaly.

But then it happens again — and maybe again. Another gossipy comment. Another Sunday gathering missed with a weak excuse. Another snap at her husband or jab at his wife. Another apparent compromise with sin.

Now you’re pretty sure you should say something. But you’re also busy. Or you think someone else might be in a better position to bring it up. Or you hate uncomfortable conversations. (Or all of the above.) So you convince yourself to stay quiet.

Meanwhile, however, your brother’s or sister’s sin does not stay quiet. It goes on speaking and tempting, alluring and deceiving. And ever so slowly, your friend’s heart becomes harder.

'''Anatomy of an Exhortation'''

I know the experience. As I think back on my years as a Christian, I remember too many concerns unspoken. Too many hard words held back. Too many times when I stayed quiet from comfort instead of heeding the words of Hebrews:

<blockquote>Exhort one another every day, as long as it is called “today,” that none of you may be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin. (Hebrews 3:13)</blockquote>

That verse, familiar to many of us, repays careful observation. “Exhort one another,” it tells us. What does that mean?

The word suggests speech that rouses and stirs. When we exhort, we urge others to action — sometimes away from sin (Hebrews 3:13), sometimes toward good works (Hebrews 10:24–25), always nearer to God. “Pay much closer attention” (Hebrews 2:1). “Lift your drooping hands” (Hebrews 12:12). “Do not refuse him who is speaking” (Hebrews 12:25). Such is the language of exhortation.

If we take our bearings from Hebrews as a whole — which the author calls a “word of exhortation” (Hebrews 13:22) — the anatomy of an exhortation becomes even clearer. Exhortations deal with the specifics of a person’s sins and temptations. They rely on God’s word as their authority. They wisely weave comforts, promises, and warnings together. They hold sin as the enemy and God-pleasing obedience as the aim.

Most importantly, exhortations set forth the supremacy of Jesus. “He’s better,” Hebrews says, over and over again (see Hebrews 7:19, 22; 8:6; 9:23; 10:34; 11:16; 12:24). And that’s what we echo to one another. “Brother, he’s better”; “Sister, he’s better” — better than gossip and slander, better than anger and lust, better than anything we need to give up.

'''Power to Protect'''

A well-offered exhortation holds tremendous spiritual power. But many of us still hesitate, finding any number of reasons ''not'' to exhort. So along with the ''what'' of exhortation, Hebrews also presses upon us the ''who, when'', and ''why''.

'''WHO'''

<blockquote>Exhort ''one another'' . . . that ''none of you'' may be hardened.</blockquote>

Later in Hebrews, the author will sound the same sweeping note: “See to it that ''no one'' fails to obtain the grace of God” (Hebrews 12:15). Hebrews casts a vision for Christian community where ''everyone'' is ready to exhort ''anyone'' so that ''no one'' falls away. We are our brother’s keeper — and we have many brothers.

True, some Christians (like those in our family or small group) lie more immediately within our sphere of responsibility. But if we see a Christian we know wandering, and if we see no one else going after him, then we know who should take the first step: us.

'''WHEN'''

<blockquote>Exhort one another every day, as long as it is called “today.”</blockquote>

The “today” in this verse (quoted from Psalm 95:7) refers to all our days on this side of heaven’s rest (Hebrews 4:1). Like pilgrims in the wilderness, we haven’t yet reached our promised land; we haven’t yet crossed our Jordan. And until we do, we live embattled lives.

If we were already home, if we were already out of our enemy’s reach, then warnings and exhortations would be odd. But dangerous lands still lie between us and our Father’s house; as John Bunyan puts it, we “are not yet out of the gun-shot of the devil” (''Pilgrim’s Progress'', 101). We need exhortations, then, if we’re going to avoid making an early grave in the wilderness. And we need to give them.

The more we grasp our present endangered position, the more normal exhortations will seem, and the more we will realize why Jesus and the apostles so regularly spoke this way. On this side of heaven, exhortations are not strange; they are everyday.

'''WHY'''

<blockquote>Exhort one another every day . . . ''that none of you may be hardened'' by the deceitfulness of sin.</blockquote>

Under God, the loving, wise, courageous words of a fellow Christian protect our hearts against hardness. They are one of the main ways God helps us hold fast till heaven.

Do you see the potential that God has placed in your words? Your brother may seem entrenched in disobedience. But by God’s design and the Spirit’s power, ''your words'' can break the spell of sin’s deceit. Your words can humble destructive pride, dispel lustful passion, keep a heart soft amid suffering. And in some situations, your words may be the ''main'' means God intends to use in a person’s life. As the apostle James said about prayer (“You have not because you ask not”; see James 4:2), so we might say about some exhortations: That person changes not because you speak not.

Dear brother or sister, God means to use you to keep others from falling away.

'''Who Needs to Hear?'''

So think for a minute about the Christians in your church or among your friends. Whose sin have you been avoiding? Whose heart seems harder than it once was? Who needs to hear your exhortation?

By all means, pray and consider the best approach to take. Ponder how to apply God’s word wisely and how to set forth Jesus as better. Plan a good time to talk. And then, in the actual conversation, perhaps ask questions about what you’ve observed — why he’s been acting like this, why she’s said words like those.

But then open your mouth and ''speak''. Name the sin you notice. Honestly share your concern. Commend the Christ who satisfies. And see if God doesn’t take your words and use them to melt the hardness from this brother’s or sister’s heart.

Who Needs to Hear Your Hard Words?

Kathyyee — Thu, 26 Feb 2026 17:14:34 GMT

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Christian, God Is Glad to Forgive You

Kathyyee — Thu, 26 Feb 2026 16:58:25 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "Christian, God Is Glad to Forgive You" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}

<blockquote>In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us. (Ephesians 1:7–8)</blockquote>

John Owen once described God’s forgiveness in a way that can feel almost unrealistic. He wrote that God’s pardon is not narrow or reluctant like ours, but “full, free, boundless, bottomless, absolute” (''Works of John Owen'', 6:499). We often forgive in ways that reflect our fallenness: hesitantly, partially, begrudgingly. Owen’s point, however, is simple: God forgives generously and completely, in a way that reflects his own nature (Exodus 34:6–7) and displays the glory of his grace (Ephesians 1:6, 12, 14).

But even when we hear this, many of us struggle to believe God forgives us this way. We know the doctrines. Still, when we commit a familiar sin or face the shame of a new one, we may assume God is tired of us. We imagine he forgives because he chooses to, not because he wants to. In those moments, we quietly treat his grace as reluctant. Yet in Christ, God does not grow tired of receiving you, because his forgiveness does not rise and fall with your performance. It rests on the unchanging worth of his Son, whose intercession never falters (Romans 8:34).

This suspicion, that God’s fundamental posture toward us shifts with our spiritual steadiness, creates distance where we most need closeness. But the gospel shows something better: God forgives willingly and gladly. His glad forgiveness is an expression of his desire to be shown glorious in the joy of forgiven sinners (Psalm 32:1–2, 10–11).

'''The Transactional Trap'''

To see how radical God’s glad forgiveness is, we need to recognize the lie that often shapes our instincts. A helpful picture comes from ancient Ephesus. In Acts 19, Paul encountered people whose religious system, centered on the god Artemis and magic formulas, was thoroughly transactional. Spells and expensive scrolls were tools for managing the gods. When new Christians burned these books, they were rejecting not just objects but an entire framework for relating to the divine (Acts 19:18–20).

In their worldview, the gods were unpredictable; they could be influenced but never trusted. Spiritual life was built on constant effort and upheld by anxious maintenance. The idea of a God who forgives freely and out of his own character was not only unfamiliar; it was incompatible with their thinking. At its root, the transactional mindset exalts human effort and diminishes the glory of God’s mercy.

This same instinct — earn first, receive later — still shows up in our lives. We reject pagan religion in theory, yet we often act like spiritual Ephesians. We believe salvation is by grace, but we live as though ongoing forgiveness must be earned. We hold back from prayer until we feel worthy again. In our minds, God becomes a reluctant judge who must be persuaded rather than a Father who is glad to forgive. Grace becomes a transaction we think we must manage.

Whenever we wait to come to God until we feel worthy, we reveal the deeper issue: We trust our worthiness more than Christ’s.

'''Dismantling Transactional Thinking'''

Paul addresses this mindset in Ephesians 1. Writing to the same believers who burned their magic scrolls, he describes God’s work in a way that leaves no room for earning. He begins, “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing” (verse 3). Rooted in God’s prior action, these blessings do not depend on our effort.

In fact, Paul traces these blessings back before creation: “[The Father] chose us in [Christ] before the foundation of the world. . . . In love he predestined us for adoption” (verses 4–5). God’s gracious decision did not wait for our repentance or obedience. It came before we existed, before we sinned, and before the world began. Our adoption rests on his eternal choice, not on our spiritual performance. And God’s eternal choice is the overflow of divine love designed to display the glory of his grace (verse 6).

This is the logic of grace: God chose, loved, and blessed his people before they contributed anything. Grace begins not as God’s reaction to our efforts but as the outflow of his eternal purpose. And Paul shows that this initiative is explicitly Trinitarian. The Father plans, the Son accomplishes, and the Spirit applies and seals. Our forgiveness rests on the united work of the triune God, not on the rise and fall of our spiritual consistency. Because each person of the Godhead works to secure our forgiveness, forgiveness is not reluctant. It is the glad overflow of God’s glory (verse 14).

'''The Glad Contact Point of Eternal Love'''

With God’s eternal choice as the foundation, forgiveness is where God’s grace reaches us personally, where divine purpose meets our real guilt and troubled conscience. Forgiveness is not only the clearing of our record but also the assurance that God welcomes us with joy. It expresses his delight in restoring us. God welcomes forgiven sinners with joy because doing so magnifies the worth of Christ.

The cross was not God’s reluctant response to sin. It was the moment he chose to reveal his grace through the blood of his Son (Ephesians 1:7). Our conscience needs a concrete anchor, and the cross provides it: forgiveness secured by Christ’s poured-out life. God planned forgiveness from eternity, knowing that only Christ’s blood would suffice. Nothing displays the glory of his grace more clearly than the Son who bled to give it.

Paul states it wonderfully: “In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us” (verses 7–8). Paul chooses the word ''lavished'' because he wants us to feel the scale of God’s giving. ''Lavished'' highlights generosity, not obligation. And no wonder, for this forgiveness comes to us ''in Christ''. God does not hand us forgiveness as a detached gift. He gives us Christ, and with Christ, everything that is his. He lavishes grace so that forgiven sinners might share the joy of knowing him as their Glad Forgiver.

Paul later explains that believers are “sealed with the promised Holy Spirit” (1:13). The Spirit’s seal guarantees that what Christ purchased will be applied and preserved. When doubts arise about God’s gladness to forgive, the Spirit witnesses that we belong to the Father and remain secure in Christ. And because Christ now reigns and intercedes for his people (1:20–23), the forgiveness he purchased is upheld by his ongoing mediation. Our confidence rests not on the stability of our performance but on the presence of the Spirit within us and the permanence of Christ’s intercession for us.

Such a salvation leaves no room for a reluctant forgiver. God does not forgive in cautious or partial ways. For those in Christ, his grace is abundant, gladly given, and eternally secure. When you turn to him, you do not meet a scorekeeper. You meet a Father who, for the sake of Christ, welcomes you with joy. This is the fullness of his forgiveness. This is the glad heart of God.

Christian, God Is Glad to Forgive You

Kathyyee — Thu, 26 Feb 2026 16:58:14 GMT

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Satan Wants You Alone This Sunday

Kathyyee — Thu, 26 Feb 2026 16:35:52 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "Satan Wants You Alone This Sunday" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}A war is raging in your church. I’m not alluding to drama among the deacons or complaints by a few congregants. I’m talking about a battle that is not “against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12). Satan wars against our faith, but God promises to hold us fast. And one of the ways he sustains us is through the church’s weekly assembly.

When most of us think of going to church, we don’t consider what is happening behind the scenes. But understand this: ''Sunday morning is a spiritual-warfare battleground.'' Satan’s attacks aim at hindering faith (Luke 22:31–32). God’s aim in the assembly is to edify faith (1 Corinthians 14:26; Colossians 3:16). Gathering with the flock is akin to assembling for war. Liturgy is our battle plan given by the Lord of hosts.

'''Assemble for War'''

Gathering with the church seems like a simple command to obey (Hebrews 10:24–25). But Satan strives to hinder us from doing it. Why? Because he knows that forsaking the assembly can lead to a failing faith. I’m not implying that if you miss church a time or two, you’re in danger of apostasy. However, small compromises, if unaddressed, always lead to larger ones. Just as David fell prey to Satan when he stayed back instead of going to war (2 Samuel 11:1–2), so we fall prey to his schemes when we stay back from corporate worship.

What follows are four common schemes of which we must not be ignorant (2 Corinthians 2:11).

'''1. Distraction'''

The evil one aims to ensnare you in faith-stifling alternatives to assembling with the saints. Some are subtle and potentially permissible, like taking weekends at a lake house. While vacations can be life-giving, substituting church for the ease of sitting on the dock, even while listening to your favorite pastor’s teaching, is spiritually dangerous. Isolation cultivates a self-serving religion: You don’t have to greet other saints or sing songs you don’t prefer. There’s no threat of someone asking sin-exposing questions. And if the sermon seems too long, you can listen to it at 1.5-times speed.

Or maybe you’re distracted by the kids’ sports teams that play games during the church gathering. You grumble about the schedule, but do you make a stand in faith, trusting God to honor your honoring of him? Are you discipling your children to make the assembly central in their lives, or have you fallen prey to the temptations of our age?

You may not be wealthy enough for a lake house or tempted by kids’ sports, but the world has something for everyone, so beware. Jesus’s parable of the soils paints a harrowing picture of seed that does not grow: “As for what fell among the thorns, they are those who hear, but as they go on their way they are choked by the cares and riches and pleasures of life, and their fruit does not mature” (Luke 8:14). Convenience and comfort are often far greater dangers to the soul than threats of persecution and martyrdom.

'''2. Discouragement'''

If distraction has slain her thousands, discouragement has slain her ten thousands. Reasons for discouragement abound. The fear that going to church will lead to feeling more alone is a powerful one. Many churches rightly preach about love, community, and meaningful membership — but what are we to make of that when we can spend all morning in a space where no one acknowledges our presence? Satan is quick to whisper assurances that we are unworthy of love. He may even suggest that if we’re unnoticed by people, then how much more by God?

Or maybe compromises with sin have left us riddled with guilt. Maybe we stayed up the night before, drinking too much or consuming questionable content. Or maybe we indulged in pornography or blew past boundaries with a boyfriend or girlfriend. Getting up for church would require spiritual strength, but sin has sapped us into a paralyzed state.

Or maybe you feel a spiritual darkness you can’t explain. Depressive clouds block out the light, and like Elijah, you say in your heart, “It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life” (1 Kings 19:4). Pushing through the clouds of discouragement feels impossible at times, especially on Sunday morning.

Do not lose heart, discouraged saint. The light of the glory of Christ will lead you to safety.

'''3. Division'''

Jesus delights in the church’s unity; Satan devotes himself to undermining it. I recently spoke with a friend who was struggling with another church member. As he shared about the situation, I could see how cleverly Satan had intervened in the strained relationship. He had stoked suspicion and assured my brother that the other person thought ill of him. Comparison had allowed his insecure heart to spiral into deception. But thankfully, after the two spoke, the air was cleared, and the Lord helped them disentangle from the evil one’s snare.

Whether rifts are small or large doesn’t matter to the adversary as long as believers’ affections are cooled for one another. Temptations to post thoughtlessly online or to cultivate twisted assumptions are constant. Satan is an opportunist who seeks open doors for easy access into relationships, which is why we must “give no opportunity to the devil” (Ephesians 4:26–27).

'''4. Disbelief'''

From the beginning, Satan has whispered, “Did God actually say?” (Genesis 3:1). His aim is to erode confidence in what God has spoken. He wants us, like the deceived Pilate, to say, “What is truth?” (John 18:38). He accomplishes this attack by distorting Scripture and inserting false doctrine, which leads the immature astray (1 Timothy 4:1). Doctrinal deception is one of Satan’s oldest and most effective weapons.

If Satan cannot dupe us with deceptive teaching, he can do it by dulling our hearts to God’s voice. The author of Hebrews writes of the danger that comes with being “dull of hearing” (Hebrews 5:11) and warns, “If you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts” (Hebrews 3:7–8). This hardening happened to the once-faithful Demas, who, “in love with this present world,” turned his back on Christ (2 Timothy 4:10).

Satan labors to foster disbelief in God, but assembling with the saints sets our hearts on the hope of Christ as we pray, sing, celebrate, and worship together.

'''Protect the Assembly'''

Gathering with the church is an act of faith that resists the devil and grants us a glimpse of the precious glory of Jesus. But assembling won’t happen without intentional thought and help. So, what steps can we take now (and every week) to assemble on Sunday?

''Pursue Jesus daily.'' Corporate worship is fueled by personal worship, and personal worship is fueled by corporate worship. By pursuing Jesus daily and regularly sitting at his feet, you will have spiritual sobriety and strength to resist the tempter’s snares and approach the battlefield on the Lord’s Day (James 4:7–8).

''Plan to assemble.'' We are commanded to discipline ourselves for godliness (1 Timothy 4:7–8), which includes the way we discipline our schedule. While there may be reasons to occasionally miss a Sunday, vigilantly guard the gathering with God’s people. Make it the event that the rest of your week revolves around. Model this commitment for friends, family, and neighbors. Treasuring Jesus alongside his people requires intentional planning.

''Prepare for the assembly.'' One of the regular practices in our church is for families or roommates to read the upcoming sermon text throughout the week. Doing so gets their hearts and minds wrapped around the word God will have for them on Sunday. We also encourage people to sing the songs that we will sing together on Sunday. These small acts of preparation are like training before the battle.

''Partner with assemblers.'' Surround yourself with people who love you enough to keep you accountable (Hebrews 3:12–14). Share the ways that Satan tempts you, and ask them to help you resist him. We are too weak and too vulnerable to fight this battle alone. God calls the whole church to put on the armor of God and bear one another’s burdens (Ephesians 6:10–18; Galatians 6:2). Seek these relationships, and ask your pastors for help if you don’t know how.

'''Worship Will Be Worth It'''

Satan, the world, and our flesh can offer countless reasons not to gather with the church. But the Almighty calls us to believe it will be worth it. In the assembly, we see the preciousness of Jesus again. Every element of the service lifts the eyes of our hearts to behold him and believe in him afresh.

Satan would have us experience anything but that. His aim is our apostasy; neglecting the assembly is one of his most potent schemes. But in the words of the apostle, “Resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world” (1 Peter 5:9). So, keep fighting, family of God, because “the God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet” (Romans 16:20).

Satan Wants You Alone This Sunday

Kathyyee — Thu, 26 Feb 2026 16:35:28 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}A war is raging in your church. I’m not alluding to drama among the deacons or complaints by a few congregants. I’m talking about a battle that is not “against fles...'

A Shy Guy’s Guide to Big Groups

Kathyyee — Thu, 26 Feb 2026 16:07:28 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "A Shy Guy’s Guide to Big Groups" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}“Sorry I am late; I didn’t want to come.”

I laughed. Then sighed. Here was one of my inner man’s favorite shirts.

Do you dislike big group gatherings? Do they glare at you from the calendar? Would you rather read a book or serve on jury duty or sprain an ankle than — as the little mermaid sang — ''be where the people are?''

It’s not their fault; you’re just not good at ''tons of people''. You can take them one at a time, but you’re not Samson. You wish you could freely buzz about a room, entertaining people you hardly know with half-conversations, but experience has hinted, not so subtly, that you’re no sparkling conversationalist. You can come off as, well, a little dull and listless. If you didn’t know this about yourself, you might enjoy meeting new people more. Probably not.

Without fail, one of the worst parts of every small-group party or church picnic is that you are in every conversation you enter. Your face aches from your own weird grin. Your humor — not the stuff of legends. ''Is it time to leave yet?''

But you have it on good authority — ''it is not good for man to be alone.'' Experience has hinted at this too. So here you are, late. Better late than never (you keep reminding yourself), but also better late than on time. Standing amid the crowd, you envy the turtle its shell, the bird its wings, the prisoner his solitude. After the third time pretending to use the bathroom, you realize that the leopard can sooner change his spots than you change whatever this is.

'''Generous with Your Energy'''

Dear brother or sister, I feel your plight. But instead of taking personality tests and being trapped in the results, making peace with the discomfort and awkwardness, what if we focused outside of ourselves on others? What if we took the counsel of a voice instructor and aimed at being ''generous with our energy?'' You don’t have to be a comedian or an amazing storyteller or the life of the party; just ask yourself, “Am I present, engaged, and giving myself to others? Am I being ''me?”''

''Energy — how am I stewarding my energy?''

Many times, not well. How often have you or I given our best, most spirited self at work or with a friend or doing what we love, only to come home or arrive at church flat and flavorless? How many times have you and I preferred autopilot to conserve ourselves for other times and different people? I ask again, how are you stewarding your energy, your ''liveliness?''

The temptations here are different for the introvert and the extrovert. Introverts pay a heavy energy tax when in groups. They spend their smaller budget sooner. An hour or two into the gathering, their eyes involuntarily dart to the door.

With extroverts, it is not so. They enter and, like monsters in comic books, seem to absorb energy from others — ''from you.'' With each boisterous joke, they grow stronger, become taller, can stay longer. However low their day, they cannot even take off their coats without surpassing the dynamism of their less animated brethren. You. The more these external processors say, the more they have to say. They need to focus more on the big pedal to the left than the skinnier pedal to the right. But those who need more acceleration can imitate the energy of these lively ones.

'''Practical Helps'''

Lasting change comes from cultivating a willing, generous spirit of love to share what you have with others. So, how can you learn to steward your limited energy as you act out such love? Should you drink coffee beforehand? Maybe.

Some other practical helps.

''Pray.'' Ask the Lord, both before and during, to make the time about him and about others. Pray for good conversations. Pray for the right people to speak to. Pray for you to decrease and for him to increase. Pray he animates you with love for others that communicates interest in them. Pray that the joy of the Lord would be your lively strength.

''Speak louder than normal.'' This is a cheat code to bring more energy. What we call personality is deeply intertwined with how we use our voices. Use them often, freely, loudly, energetically, and you will appear more extroverted. Speak softly, sparingly, delicately, and you will be perceived as an introvert. Labels aside, one way to bring a hospitable, others-focused energy is to speak more loudly than you normally do. Don’t yell, but it is often the case that introverts misjudge how loud “too loud” is and how soft “too soft” is. Their normal speaking voice is a few notches too low, and their lack of projection can be misinterpreted as disinterest.

''Think (long) before you speak.'' Some of you have little to say because you’ve made no time to think about what you want to say. You sit at the furthest table, linger at the fringes, burrow in the final pew because you know you have nothing to say and don’t want this made public. ''So come in with something to say.'' You’ve been asked the same questions a hundred times. How was your week? How is your family? What’s new? How can people pray for you? It’s not cheating to think ahead about how to answer. And more than that, ''come with thoughtful, interesting questions for others.''

''Look for others off to the side.'' Look for people who look like you when you were not bent on blessing others. Look out for the shy, the uncomfortable, the lost, and the friendless, and extend them welcome. Instead of being on the other end of the room, consumed with how awkward you feel and waiting to be approached, approach.

'''Cheerful Givers'''

In God’s words, “Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver” (2 Corinthians 9:7). God is the cheerful Giver, and it pleases him for us to give happily. ''Serve happily'' — these words should echo in your mind as you walk into every room.

Give what you have in the name of love; give more than what you have — act with the strength that ''he supplies''. Most of us won’t be called to show Jesus-like love by physically laying down our lives for others. But we can spend ourselves, pour out, and lean in, get outside ourselves to care about other souls, other troubles, other lives. He can take your few fish, your felt limitations offered up for his service, and multiply them to bless a large group of people.

And is this really a sacrifice? It can certainly feel like it. You may need some time to recover. But it is a price that makes the giver richer in the end. God’s economy breaks mathematics, defies tidy spreadsheets. Its law is this: ''Give to gain.'' In dependence on him and love for his people, spend, invest, pour out, and it will return to you with interest. Under God, “One gives freely, yet grows all the richer; another withholds what he should give, and only suffers want. Whoever brings blessing will be enriched, and one who waters will himself be watered” (Proverbs 11:24–25). Memorize, trust, and act.

Have you read ''The Giving Tree?'' In it, a boy keeps taking from the tree at different stages of life: first the apples, then the branches, then the trunk. Eventually, nothing is left but the stump, which he, in old age, returns to sit upon. The Christian tree is different; it “yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers” (Psalm 1:3).

Yes, he yields his fruit, branches, self — ''and they grow back''. Down and down he goes — yet in the end (even at the world’s final end), he stands taller than if he never gave to begin with. He is a magical tree, birthed from imperishable seed. God gives him life; he spends it for Christ and gains eternal life.

So, how will you decide in your heart? You do not need to become someone else; we would have you be yourself. Your inner man can yet wear a different shirt: “Sorry I am a little early; I am excited to be here, and eager to bless.”

A Shy Guy’s Guide to Big Groups

Kathyyee — Thu, 26 Feb 2026 16:06:47 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}“Sorry I am late; I didn’t want to come.” I laughed. Then sighed. Here was one of my inner man’s favorite shirts. Do you dislike big group gatherings? Do they g...'

If We Don’t Speak for the Unborn, Who Will?

Kathyyee — Wed, 11 Feb 2026 20:58:35 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "If We Don’t Speak for the Unborn, Who Will?" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}In 1977, I became one of two co-pastors of a rapidly growing new church near Portland, Oregon. It was an exciting time: People were coming to Christ and becoming true disciples. I loved being a pastor and naively pictured myself “just” teaching the Bible without controversy. But God had a different plan.

A few years later, my wife, Nanci, and I opened our home to a pregnant teenager who had previously had an abortion. We guided her toward placing her child for adoption into a Christian home. Most importantly, this precious young woman came to Jesus. To this day, she remains a dear friend and a courageous spokesperson for unborn children.

That experience changed us, and I began to understand the potential eternal impact of pro-life ministry. At the same time, I was discovering that while I could selectively ''teach'' the Bible and stay away from controversial subjects, I could not ''live'' the Bible and avoid them.

I read, “Rescue those who are being taken away to death” (Proverbs 24:11) and “Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves. . . . Defend the rights of the poor and needy” (Proverbs 31:8–9 NIV). What people are more poor and needy, more incapable of speaking up for themselves, than unborn children?

Who in our country was stripped of all legal protection for 49 years — and who, even after the reversal of ''Roe v. Wade'', are still being killed at the rate of over one million per year in states with legal abortion? (Those are surgical abortions, but the most recent count of chemical or “medication” abortions is 642,700 per year, with rates rising annually.)

Who will speak up for them if not us? That question haunted Nanci and me.

'''A Burden for the Unborn'''

Francis Schaeffer wrote, “Of all the subjects relating to the erosion of the sanctity of human life, abortion is the keystone. It is the first and crucial issue that has been overwhelming in changing attitudes toward the value of life in general” (''The Complete Works of Francis A. Schaeffer'', 5:293).

I was profoundly impacted by Schaeffer’s call to defend the unborn and became involved in pro-life education in churches and schools. Our church partnered with Portland’s first (and then only) pregnancy resource center, and I gladly said yes to serving on their board.

Meanwhile, my burden for the unborn continued to grow, and I was deeply troubled that babies kept dying year after year. I couldn’t escape either the biblical or the historical examples of believers breaking the law to save innocent lives. So, in January 1989, after searching my soul, studying Scripture, praying, and seeking counsel, and knowing it would greatly complicate my life, I began participating in peaceful, nonviolent civil disobedience at abortion clinics. Hundreds of pastors across the country did the same, despite it being so controversial. (I received a call from John Piper, whom I didn’t yet know, after he had done the same thing at an abortion clinic.)

What we called “rescuing” was a peaceful and united action in which people placed their bodies in front of the entrances of an abortion clinic and prayed and sang. Because we believed the unborn child is as valuable in God’s sight as any born person, our purpose was to prevent access to the clinic and thereby save the lives of children who would otherwise be killed after their mothers entered the building.

One time, a woman from my church told me she had scheduled an abortion, and then the night before she watched us on the news, blocking the clinic doors. She saw me standing there, reading from a Bible. God spoke to her heart, and after thinking it through, she canceled her appointment and had her baby. I would see her and her little boy at church from time to time years later. I remember thinking, “If this makes me a fanatic, it’s a label I’m willing to bear!”

I was involved in nine rescues and was arrested seven times, one of which resulted in a few days in jail. I was also sued by a Portland abortion clinic. One court judgment against us was the largest against pro-lifers in history: $8.2 million.

I believe in paying every debt, but I could not pay people who would use the money to kill children. As a result, the clinic came to the church to garnish my wages. To prevent the church from either having to pay the clinic or defy a court order, I resigned. It was painful, having been a pastor there from its beginning, but what the abortionists intended for evil, God intended for good, and he has accomplished his purposes (Genesis 50:20; Romans 8:28). Nanci and I began a nonprofit, Eternal Perspective Ministries, so we could pursue the causes closest to our hearts — primarily missions and pro-life work.

One of the many things God did was prompt us to give away 100 percent of my book royalties to support Christ-honoring and people-loving ministries. That practice has continued for 35 years. The thirteen million books that have sold brought Nanci and me a double blessing — the impact of the books themselves and the incomparable joy of seeing millions of dollars invested in gospel ministries, from evangelism to church planting, from Bible translation to feeding the hungry, from providing clean water for poor children to defending and caring for the persecuted. Before she died, one of the last things Nanci said to me was how thankful she was that we’d been able to give to these great causes. She was going to experience treasures in heaven, the greatest of which was to hear Jesus say, “Well done.”

Don’t get me wrong: We aren’t martyrs or heroes — not even close. Our lives were never in danger, and even if we had lost all our possessions due to the lawsuits (which seemed like a real possibility at the time), others would have helped us. While our sacrifices were tiny compared to those of many believers around the world, the point is that God showed himself faithful. Our daughters and Nanci and I sensed the presence and approval of our Lord Jesus as he walked beside us. We experienced peace and joy that transcended every difficult circumstance and every criticism that resulted from our choice to rescue the unborn.

For a variety of reasons, it’s been many years since I engaged in civil disobedience. But I believe God called me to that method for a season, just as he now calls our ministry to give my book royalties to pro-life causes along with other strategic ministries. I still speak up for the unborn in messages, writings, and personal conversations. This will always be a cause close to my heart, because I believe it is close to God’s heart.

'''The Darkness of Child Killing'''

People have asked me, “Was it really worth it to protest abortion and make a political statement? Wouldn’t it have been better to stay out of such things and continue being a pastor?”

I’ve never believed that I would have done much good as a pastor if I had said no to the clear leading of Christ in my life. I did not get involved in pro-life work because of politics; I was trying to save lives because the Bible I preached said that’s what I should do. It said, “Rescue those who are being taken away to death.” It said, “Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves. . . . Defend the rights of the poor and needy.” It told me, “Defend the fatherless” (see Psalm 82:3). It said, “Do to your neighbor what you would want him to do for you” (see Matthew 7:12).

I asked myself, “If I were scheduled to be killed at 8:00am tomorrow, what would I want someone to do for me?” So I did it, peacefully. It’s not the main thing I’ve done, nor is it the most important. It just happened to be the one that got the most attention — especially in my hometown of Portland — and was the most financially costly.

Satan is a master at burying spiritual issues under the label of “politics.” Long before it was ever a political issue, abortion was a moral issue, and one that God has a clear and emphatic position on. It has everything to do with the worth of a human child.

There are Christian books and seminars about waging spiritual warfare with the forces of evil. But perhaps nowhere is this evil more evident than in abortion. We’re not dealing here with “one more social/political issue”; this is a unique and focused evil in which Satan has deeply vested interests.

Jesus called Satan a murderer and liar from the beginning (John 8:44). He murders, and he lies to cover his murders. The forces behind child-killing are demonic — abortion is Satan’s attempt to kill God in effigy by destroying children created in his image.

When you have stood outside an abortion clinic every week for years, as Nanci did, talking to women who have been lied to and told that an abortion will solve their problems, it changes you. When you have held in your hands the remains of an aborted child, as I have, it brands you deep in your heart. When you have seen the world of abortion on the inside, it is, I suppose, like touring a slave ship. You will vomit and cry and never forget it. It will wake you up in the night, and you will find yourself weeping for the innocent. If I do not sound dispassionate about this issue, it’s because I am not.

'''Expect Resistance'''

Almost no topic is as guaranteed to offend some church members as abortion. I well remember how, at my home church, one of the most pro-life churches I know, certain people would stay home whenever they knew a pastor was going to speak on abortion.

Yet I’ve also seen people led to Christ at pro-life activities when the gospel is shared. There may be no better opportunity for evangelism than when showing compassionate care for the vulnerable! Every time the lies of Satan the child-killer are exposed — each time a mind is changed, a life is saved, and a woman is spared the horrors of abortion — God is glorified, and a great battle has been won. No wonder Satan hates gospel-centered pro-life ministry, and it’s no surprise we face such opposition when we boldly and graciously declare God’s truth about the unborn.

Jesus said, “‘A servant is not greater than his master.’ If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you” (John 15:20). Followers of Jesus should expect injustice and misrepresentation, including when they speak out on abortion.

One of the greatest enemies of what Eugene Peterson called “a long obedience in the same direction” is the desire to be popular, whether with the world or with the church. Nanci and I had to learn to have thicker skin when it came to people’s disapproval about our choices to be involved in pro-life ministry. We discovered that if our eyes were on anyone but Jesus, we weren’t going to have the stamina to put up with criticism or outright hostility.

Paul said, “If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ” (Galatians 1:10). Jesus is the Audience of One. We will stand before his judgment seat, no one else’s. On the issue of abortion, and every other one, we should long to hear him say, “Well done, good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:21).

'''God Can Use You'''

I’m thrilled that the pro-life cause has grown and gained greater visibility in the last four decades. When I was on the board of Portland’s first pregnancy resource center in the 1980s, I remember trying to convince pastors that this was truly a mission field. At that time, there were only twelve to fifteen evangelical centers across the whole country. (There were many others sponsored by Catholics.) Today, there are more than 2,700 pregnancy care centers in the United States and thousands of pro-life organizations here and throughout the world. Many ministries have dozens or even hundreds of volunteers, donating time and supplies and forming the largest grassroots volunteer movement in history.

Even in this world that is at times so dark, I’m optimistic about the opportunity to impact all kinds of people for Christ. I’ve seen joy and peace in the lives of many women who have experienced forgiveness after their abortions, and many women who, as a result of intervention, spared the lives of their children and have since delighted in their children’s children. Someone told me about a woman on her way to have an abortion. In God’s providence, the car in front of her had a pro-life bumper sticker, compelling her to turn around, cancel the appointment, and have her precious baby, who brought great joy to her.

If God can use even a bumper sticker to save two lives — a baby from death and a mother from great harm — how might he use your own modest efforts? Even though it’s not popular to speak up for the unborn, I encourage you to follow the Lord Jesus wherever he is leading you; then depend upon him to give you more courage to take the next step.

Start by praying regularly for pro-life ministries, churches, mothers, and babies. If the darkness of child-killing is to be overcome, it will require humble and persistent prayer. When we engage in pro-life ministry, our struggle is not “against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12). I know firsthand that there can be heaviness involved in pro-life work. But in the midst of the darkest day and hardest call, God is a shelter to our hearts and minds (Proverbs 18:10).

You can also give regular visibility to the issue of abortion in conversations and, if you’re a church leader, from the pulpit. As we speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves (Proverbs 31:8–9), it’s vitally important that we do so in a Christlike manner, “full of grace and truth” (John 1:14).

Consider spearheading a pro-life ministry in your church, or finding one in your area, and donating time, money, supplies, and professional skills. Ask God to show you the unique ways you can contribute, and then give generously. As Jesus taught, your heart will follow your treasure (Matthew 6:19–21). Years ago, my friend used his carpentry skills to remodel the house that became the pregnancy resource center in my hometown. This man, who’s as big as an NFL lineman, wouldn’t be the first choice to counsel a pregnant woman! But the work of his hands has impacted thousands of women and preborn babies.

In eternity, we won’t regret a single effort we made to speak up for the unborn, minister to their mothers, and reach out in Christ’s name. When we are with King Jesus in the new heavens and new earth, every sacrifice we make now, big or small, will be obviously and eternally worth it.

If We Don’t Speak for the Unborn, Who Will?

Kathyyee — Wed, 11 Feb 2026 20:58:17 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}In 1977, I became one of two co-pastors of a rapidly growing new church near Portland, Oregon. It was an exciting time: People were coming to Christ and becoming true dis...'

‘Come and See More of Me’

Kathyyee — Tue, 13 Jan 2026 23:01:33 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "‘Come and See More of Me’" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}'''Jesus’s Daily Invitation to Delight'''

A few years ago, I received a new pair of binoculars as a birthday present. When our family traveled to the Grand Canyon, I could look out from the South Rim and see rafts on the Colorado River a mile below, remarkable rock formations and layers of sediment, and even the outstretched wings of a California condor. On many occasions, I exclaimed, “Come and see this!” then handed my kids the binoculars. We would not have seen or appreciated these wonders if we gave a passing glance out the window of a moving car. We needed to slow down and look carefully through the right lenses to grasp the grandeur before us.

The Lord Jesus issues a stunning invitation in John 1: “Come and see.” What does it mean to heed this invitation today, whether for the first time or the ten thousandth time? What will we see when we come?

'''Come and See Then'''

When John the Baptist sees Jesus walking by him, he says to his disciples, “Behold, the Lamb of God!” (John 1:36). The two disciples then leave their teacher and say to Jesus, “Teacher . . . where are you staying?” Jesus responds, “''Come'' and you ''will'' see,” and they ''came'' and ''saw'' and stayed with him (verses 38–39). This invitation may seem pedestrian — like, “Sure, come over for supper.” Yet it is staggering that the true Light, the Son of God, summons these men to “come and see.” These disciples acknowledge Jesus as Teacher, one even greater than the Baptizer. Andrew even tells his brother that they have found “the Messiah.” But as they remain with Jesus, they will grasp so much more of his divine majesty.

The “come and see” pattern continues in the next scene. Jesus journeys to Galilee, finds Philip, and calls him: “Follow me” (verse 43). Philip immediately searches for his friend Nathanael to tell him about Jesus. He rightly recognizes that Jesus is the long-awaited Messiah foretold by the prophets, though he identifies his new Teacher as “Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph” (verse 45). Philip’s testimony presents only part of the picture of Jesus Christ, the true Son of God, conceived by the Spirit and born of the virgin in Bethlehem, David’s town. He has much more to learn about Jesus.

Nathanael is initially skeptical: “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” (verse 46). As a new disciple himself, Philip does not dispute with his friend but invites him to “come and see” for himself. When Nathanael does come to see Jesus, he discovers that Jesus already ''sees'' and ''knows'' him — not just his activities but his heart. And so this former skeptic addresses Jesus with an honorific title, “Rabbi” (Teacher), and confesses, “You are the Son of God; you are the King of Israel.” Jesus has the last word: “You will ''see'' greater things than these” (verses 49–50).

Nathanael and the other disciples will indeed see the Lord’s miraculous signs — turning water into wine; healing the sick, the lame, and the blind; feeding the crowd; even raising the dead. Later, they will even see and touch and dine with the risen Lord. Christ adds, “Truly, truly, I say to you, you will see heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.” He alludes to Jacob’s famous dream in Genesis 28:12: “He dreamed, and behold, there was a ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven. And behold, the angels of God were ascending and descending on it!” Here in John 1, the angels do not ascend and descend on a ''ladder'' but on a ''person'' — the Son of Man.

Jesus’s point is that he is where heaven and earth meet. He makes the unseen God of heaven ''seen'' and ''known'' on earth (John 1:18). When Jacob awakes from his dream, he declares, “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it” (Genesis 28:16). The patriarch has an amazing dream, but the disciples see the divine Son himself, the Word-become-flesh.

'''Come and See Now'''

How do we “come and see” the Son of God? We do not encounter him on the streets of Galilee like the disciples in John 1. Even if we could encounter him that way, the Gospels include plenty of examples of people coming to Jesus, seeing his mighty works, and walking away in unbelief. Many people gave Jesus a passing glance and did not behold his glory. So how do we respond to his invitation today?

To “come and see” him, we need spectacles of faith. Consider Jesus’s words in John 6:35: “I am the bread of life; whoever ''comes'' to me shall not hunger, and whoever ''believes'' in me shall never thirst.” In this verse, “coming” and “believing” are synonymous and inform each other. As bread and water satisfy our physical hunger and thirst, so Jesus satisfies our weary souls.

Thus, “coming” to Jesus by faith involves responding to his invitation, recognizing who he really is, and receiving him as the one we need. When we ''come'' to Jesus like this, we want to keep coming to feast on the Bread of Life and slake our thirst on the Living Water. To ''see'' Jesus doesn’t simply mean to notice him, to give him a passing glance, to know facts about him. It means seeing him spiritually with the perspective of faith. We need God to give us spiritual sight — new lenses — that we may behold Jesus as compellingly lovely and satisfying.

Seeing Jesus also requires patience and persistence. The first disciples initially see that Jesus is an honored Teacher, one even greater than the prophet John. Over time, they come to recognize him as the Lamb of God, the Messiah, the very Son of God. Jesus promises that there is far more glory to behold. The invitation “Come and see” prompts us to ''keep'' coming to our Lord by faith, to ''keep'' seeing his diverse excellencies, to keep feasting on the Bread of Life.

Those who have grown up in the church or professed faith many years ago may be tempted to ''assume'' the glories of Christ because they are overly familiar with the Bible’s accounts of all that he said and did. This is like a park ranger who visits the Grand Canyon every day but has stopped gazing at its grandeur.

John 1 calls us to gaze upon the God-man with heartfelt faith, with wonder, with adoration. The apostle John writes, “We have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). Have you come and seen the goodness and glory of Jesus, our Savior and Lord? If you have, then you will keep coming by faith, keep looking by faith, keep savoring and celebrating the sweetness of our Savior. There are more glories to discover. And we will want to tell others, “Come and see.”

‘Come and See More of Me’

Kathyyee — Tue, 13 Jan 2026 23:01:21 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}'''Jesus’s Daily Invitation to Delight''' A few years ago, I received a new pair of binoculars as a birthday present. When our family traveled to the Grand Canyon, I c...'

You May Not See the Fruit of Your Ministry

Kathyyee — Tue, 13 Jan 2026 20:46:46 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "You May Not See the Fruit of Your Ministry" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}I am not often tempted to grumble over a man being saved, but on this occasion, I mumbled to myself, ''Are you serious?''

Spurgeon was testing the acoustics at the grand Surrey Gardens, where he was set to preach the following day. He bellowed in what he thought was an empty room, “Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world!” A workman, looking up perplexed, was eventually ''saved'' by the utterance. In Spurgeon’s own words,

<blockquote>A day or two before preaching at the Palace, I went to decide where it should be fixed; and, in order to test the acoustic properties of the building, cried in a loud voice, “Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world.” In one of the galleries, a workman, who knew nothing of what was being done, heard the words, and they came like a message from Heaven to his soul. He was smitten with conviction on account of sin, put down his tools, went home, and there, after a season of spiritual struggling, found peace and life by beholding the Lamb of God. Years after, he told this story to one who visited him on his death-bed. (''C.H. Spurgeon: The Early Years'', 534)</blockquote>

''Good for him'', thought I, sarcastically (to my shame). The ''him'' of my thought was not the man who heard the voice as from heaven but Spurgeon himself. Here he was, practicing to preach to his largest crowd (23,654 people), totally unaware anyone was listening, and a man is saved. This was not my experience. Here I was, in a season of grabbing at fruit — practically dangling from it — yet none would fall. Spurgeon’s feet were buried in fruit simply by breathing a few words of Scripture. ''Good for him''.

What do you do when you serve the Lord and little happens? When you’ve spent all night fishing with no catch? How do you feel when you see another disciple’s boat filling and sinking from all the fish? You plead, pray, and watch — ''little to nothing happens.'' You carry on patiently, hopefully, expectantly — at first. Months pass. Years. ''Doesn’t Jesus want me to bear much fruit? Am I wasting my life?''

Brother or sister, Jesus’s distinction between ''sowers'' and ''reapers'' may help you keep your hope in him while laboring in hard, seemingly fruitless seasons.

'''Open Your Eyes'''

Observe Christ’s vital distinction in John 4:35–38:

<blockquote>Do you not say, “There are yet four months, then comes the harvest”? Look, I tell you, lift up your eyes, and see that the fields are white for harvest. Already the one who reaps is receiving wages and gathering fruit for eternal life, so that sower and reaper may rejoice together. For here the saying holds true, “One sows and another reaps.” I sent you to reap that for which you did not labor. Others have labored, and you have entered into their labor.</blockquote>

First, realize that Jesus does confront a real reason for unfruitfulness: ''a lack of urgency.'' At this point in the story, his disciples are worried about lunch while Jesus is worried about the harvest. They leave him to get food, but he has food they don’t know enough about: ''doing his Father’s will''. “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to accomplish his work” (John 4:34). Their eyes were down, but Jesus would lift them to the vast opportunity before them: “Do you not say, ‘There are yet four months, then comes the harvest’? Look, I tell you, lift up your eyes, and see that the fields are white for harvest.”

''Can’t you see it?'' he asks. Some of us don’t see more results because we have not yet lifted our eyes to see all the souls to gather into the kingdom. We live in a time to reap, but we don’t observe how the Lord has been at work in family members and friends and neighborhoods.

Paradoxically, one despised Samaritan woman, who had just departed from Jesus as the disciples arrive, leaves with her eyes up, fixed on the souls back home. She meets the Savior, marvels at him, and immediately goes to the white fields in Samaria. She forgets her water jug at the well. “Come,” says she, “see a man who told me all that I ever did. Can this be the Christ?” (John 4:29).

After Jesus stays in Samaria a few days, the townspeople tell the woman, “It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is indeed the Savior of the world” (John 4:42). She was urgent in the work and gathered fruit for eternal life as soon as she herself found it. Such fruit the hesitant and slothful will never see.

'''Sowers and Reapers'''

Meanwhile, there’s another reason we don’t see expected fruit: ''Some of us are sowers.'' Did you catch Jesus’s distinction? “For here the saying holds true,” our Lord said, “‘One sows and another reaps.’ I sent you to reap that for which you did not labor. Others have labored, and you have entered into their labor.”

''One person reaps.'' They come in after the ground has been tilled, the seeds have been sown, the crop has been husbanded and protected. Reapers secure the harvest when it is ripe. They seem to have the preferred part. They enter another person’s labor and collect the results. The reaper is like the soldier who comes to gather spoils from the enemy camp but just misses the actual battle. These reapers are often the sung heroes, those who are used mightily of God toward visible and lasting results. They preach to a tilled generation, or even to an empty room — and men are saved.

''Another sows.'' This is the guy who often does all the hard work leading up to harvest. He is the one who labors in hope without ever handling the crop. The sower’s hands are full of dirt, not wheat. His hands grip the plow, not the produce. He has sweat on his brow and pain in his back. The other man works as well, but this man does not have the same payoff to assist him in his plodding. He often sets the stage for others. The word he works with is ''Someday.''

We have our sowers, don’t we? The mother who pours her best years into her children, not seeing what will become of them for decades, if ever. College ministers who labor on the campus with students for only a few years, planting seeds and watering them, not seeing their growth in the lifetime to come. A small group of faithful saints who pray for a revival they never see. Missionaries who labor on the frontiers, sowing their lives into learning foreign nouns and verbs so that someday they can translate God’s word into a new tongue and share the story of Jesus with those who have never heard.

These ''might'' see children grow up and follow the Lamb, students deployed for Christ, villages or countries bow the knee to the King — but often their eyes never see it. Reapers come in the following generations and profit from the work they started.

'''Fruit Is Better Together'''

So, what can one say to the reapers and the sowers among us?

Reapers, continue to reap. Leave no field ungathered. Lift up your eyes and see the white harvest before you. If the barns fill, build bigger ones to house all the spiritual crop. But as you receive a foretaste of eternal reward, remember what is often true: “I sent you to reap that for which you did not labor. Others have labored, and ''you have entered into their labor''.” Do not be arrogant, but rather thankful, toward sowers.

Sowers, continue to plant, till, and seed the ground. Your work is crucial — whether you see the harvest in this life or not. You will someday. What you labor on is bigger than yourself. You do not see the fullness, but Jesus does not leave you ignorant of it: “Already the one who reaps is receiving wages and gathering fruit for eternal life, so that sower and reaper may ''rejoice together''.”

You will rejoice with the reaper over your ''shared'' harvest. Oh, to see the shocked look on some of your faces when you enter glory with what you think is a single plum, only to discover a whole orchard that grew from what you had sown. “Let us not grow weary of doing good,” dear sowers, “for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up” (Galatians 6:9). The reaper’s word is Now, the sower’s word is Someday, but heaven’s word is ''Together.''

You May Not See the Fruit of Your Ministry

Kathyyee — Tue, 13 Jan 2026 20:46:29 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}I am not often tempted to grumble over a man being saved, but on this occasion, I mumbled to myself, ''Are you serious?'' Spurgeon was testing the acoustics at the grand...'

Before You Rule, Rule Yourself

Kathyyee — Tue, 13 Jan 2026 20:35:05 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "Before You Rule, Rule Yourself" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}Young man, how would you live if you were next in line to rule a kingdom? If you knew a day were coming when your decisions would bless or doom your people, how might you spend your time now? Would you speak differently, live differently, choose different friends? Would you be more serious, more watchful, more prayerful? Where more is given, more is always required.

For the man of God, this is no thought experiment. He is a prophet, king, and priest in his own household. And beyond that, what do we mean when we call ourselves ''Christian men?'' What is a Caesar or a Pharaoh compared with the near future of even the least of the sons of God? Will Pharaoh judge angels? Will Caesar sit upon Christ’s throne?

Ask yourself: ''Does this noble future alter my life’s preparation now?'' Am I proving faithful with little ''here'' so that I may be entrusted with more ''there?''

The book of Proverbs, first written to a prince, is handed down to all sons of God to equip them to rule well. In the final chapter, King Lemuel recollects the pleadings of his mother in preparing him for power. Before the Proverbs 31 wife is introduced, we are first given the Proverbs 31 queen instructing a future king. She challenges him. Before he would be fit to rule a kingdom, he first must rule himself: his body, his mind, and his tongue.

'''Rule Your Body'''

<blockquote>What are you doing, my son? What are you doing, son of my womb? 
What are you doing, son of my vows? 
Do not give your strength to women, 
your ways to those who destroy kings. (Proverbs 31:2–3)</blockquote>

Lemuel’s mother here is affectionate yet almost indignant. ''Seriously?'' Have I not made vows concerning you to the Lord? Are you really going to spend your strength and hollow your purpose by chasing mistresses? Rabbits, stallions, and mice might mate uncontrollably, but you, my son, are no beast. “Are those fit to govern others that are themselves slaves to their own lusts?” Matthew Henry asks.

Young man, do you want to lead a family, a community, a church, a nation? Do not give your strength to women, your ways to that which destroys kings. Do you imagine sleeping around has no consequences? Do you think the slops of pornography will prove harmless? With impurity you hand over your vitality, your resources, your life. Delilahs still shave men’s strength.

Earlier in Proverbs, a father exhorts his royal son to gaze upon such an adulterer’s end and flee from it:

<blockquote>Keep your way far from her, 
and do not go near the door of her house, 
lest you give your honor to others 
and your years to the merciless, 
lest strangers take their fill of your strength, 
and your labors go to the house of a foreigner, 
and at the end of your life you groan, 
when your flesh and body are consumed, 
and you say, “How I hated discipline, 
and my heart despised reproof!” (Proverbs 5:8–12)</blockquote>

Brothers, find a wife who fears the Lord. Don’t even go near the door of any other beauty, lest your honor be shattered, your time wasted, your power spent, and your labor shipped away. How much masculine force has been forfeited to forbidden women, none can guess.

'''Rule Your Mind'''

<blockquote>It is not for kings, O Lemuel, 
it is not for kings to drink wine, 
or for rulers to take strong drink, 
lest they drink and forget what has been decreed 
and pervert the rights of all the afflicted. 
Give strong drink to the one who is perishing, 
and wine to those in bitter distress; 
let them drink and forget their poverty 
and remember their misery no more. (Proverbs 31:4–7)</blockquote>

Christian man, it is not for you to be drunk with anything except the Spirit of God and the love of your wife (Proverbs 5:19). Frat boys can gather around the keg and become the slurring fool; you cannot.

“What is a Caesar or a Pharaoh compared with the near future of even the least of the sons of God?”
Give strong drink to the one who is dying, perhaps, and wine to those who suffer. But the slosh of the tavern uncrowns a future king. Drunkenness forgets justice and its King above. Leaders of men must be temperate men. Would you follow a drunk commander into battle? Would you let a tipsy man perform your surgery or pilot your plane? Leaders cannot sacrifice sharpness of mind even for a moment, lest they forget God’s law and ruin those under their care.

You do not love alcohol, you say. A man can get drunk in other ways. Maybe your phone is your wine and YouTube your strong drink. Maybe you get glazed over with video games or lose the Lord’s Day bingeing on football. Some men have minds drunk on making money. What steals your sobriety and leaves you hungover with regret?

The King’s men are sober-minded men. Higher office requires greater discipline.

'''Rule Your Tongue'''

Finally,

<blockquote>Open your mouth for the mute, 
for the rights of all who are destitute. 
Open your mouth, judge righteously, 
defend the rights of the poor and needy. (Proverbs 31:8–9)</blockquote>

I don’t know what it looks like when a cat got your tongue, but I do know what it looks like for cowardice to have it. Equivocation. Flattery. Lies. Silence.

Speak out for children murdered by Planned Parenthood; speak out to defend the marginalized and the needy who cannot repay you. It is the mouse-hearted man who calculates within: ''You have much to lose and nothing to gain by speaking the truth.'' But woe to him who stifles conscience and leaves the weak to bitter injustice. He is no king. Brothers, say what needs saying; leave your God to sort out the consequences. Tell me whom a man speaks for and whom he speaks against, and I will tell you what sort of man is in our midst.

Young man, a royal masculinity is required in your generation. You will someday be a king with Christ. Rule yourself now in preparation. Banish evil desires, abhor a tipsy mind, and rebuke a timid tongue. Give not your strength to women, your faculties to drunkenness, or your tongue to cowardice. Reign justly in your small spheres now, for Christ promises that those faithful with little will be entrusted with much more.

Before You Rule, Rule Yourself

Kathyyee — Tue, 13 Jan 2026 20:34:53 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}Young man, how would you live if you were next in line to rule a kingdom? If you knew a day were coming when your decisions would bless or doom your people, how might you...'

Are You Hesitant to Talk About Hell?

Kathyyee — Tue, 13 Jan 2026 20:24:33 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "Are You Hesitant to Talk About Hell?" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}'''Four Reminders for Women'''

I admit, I am hesitant to talk about hell. I hadn’t really noticed until another woman asked me whether women seem reluctant to mention hell, perhaps even and especially when we are talking to unbelievers. My first reaction was to think, ''Let’s talk about something else, shall we?'' The irony was not lost on me.

'''Easy (and Dangerous) to Ignore'''

While I’ve never seen data on the subject, I can understand why it might be more diﬃcult for women to warn people about hell. In general, the feminine nature leans toward nurturing, encouraging, and showing kindness. It is probably true that most women prefer to tread softly, trying to avoid oﬀense. If there is bad news, many of us would rather have someone else deliver it.

After all, we don’t want people to receive Jesus’s saving grace mostly out of fear of punishment or damnation. Instead, we want them to see their own sinfulness, realize their desperate need for a Savior, and eagerly embrace Jesus as the one who died to rescue them. True belief in Jesus guarantees an eternity with him — one filled with joy! Isn’t this all an unbeliever needs to hear?

Of course, these aspects of the gospel are some of the best and most important. But they are still only ''part'' of the story. If we share only the “good” part of the good news, never taking seriously God’s warnings of judgment, there is a real danger that those we care about will not truly understand how holy God is, how righteous his wrath is, and why our forgiveness required the sacrifice of the Son of God. Without hell in the picture, we can’t fully understand the true weight of our depravity and its consequences. When we diminish this weight, we diminish the magnitude of Jesus’s sacrifice — and therefore diminish the glory he deserves for giving his life.

Whether we talk about it or not, hell is real because God’s wrath is real (and just). There are many biblical references one could point to: Every New Testament author talks about hell, and Jesus himself warns about hell more than anyone else in the Bible. We can’t review them all, but John Piper helpfully highlights some places where Jesus, Paul, and John are clear about the reality and nature of hell. So, for all the women (like myself) who want to grow in their understanding, boldness, and love for God and others, consider these four basic realities about hell.

'''1. Hell is eternal.'''

In Mark 9:43, Jesus describes hell as an “unquenchable fire.” That is, it will ''never'' go out; there is no relief — ''forever''. In Mark 3:29, Jesus refers to blasphemy against the Holy Spirit as “an ''eternal'' sin.” It is not just one and done; there are never-ending consequences. In Matthew 25:46, speaking of separating the sheep and goats, Jesus says, “These will go away into ''eternal'' punishment, but the righteous into ''eternal'' life.” The parallel is unmistakable.

'''2. Hell is characterized by indescribable pain.'''

Jesus speaks of throwing the sinful and the law-breakers “into the fiery furnace” (Matthew 13:41–42) and “into the outer darkness” (Matthew 8:12), where they will be “cut . . . in pieces” (Matthew 24:51). These examples result in “weeping and gnashing of teeth.” The loving apostle John refers to those whose names are not written in the book of life as being thrown into the fire, where “they will be ''tormented'' day and night forever and ever” (Revelation 20:10, 15; 14:10–11).

'''3. Hell is deserved and perfectly just.'''

We are responsible for the way we regard our holy, righteous, and loving God — as well as for the implications thereof. Our indiﬀerence and rebellion store up his righteous wrath: “Because of your hard and impenitent heart you are storing up wrath for yourself on the day of wrath when God’s righteous judgment will be revealed” (Romans 2:5). Every time we choose our own way against God, we invite his wrath. And as the saints and angels show in the book of Revelation, those who understand God’s wrath most clearly cannot help but call it ''just'' (Revelation 15:3; 16:5, 7; 19:2).

'''4. Hell is escapable.'''

When we understand that our sinful nature is bent against the beauty and glory of our triune God, that our spirits most naturally and selfishly reject his perfect wisdom and authority — when we understand this and grieve deeply over it — then we begin to understand why God’s wrath and the punishment of hell are just. Then we truly appreciate the wondrous magnitude of Jesus’s sacrifice, paying the price for our evil resistance. Part and parcel of the good news is that hell is ''escapable'' if we embrace Jesus. An eternity of joy with God is our promised reward when we do. “Good news” seems like an understatement!

'''Love Tells the Whole Truth'''

If we women truly love our families, our friends, and our neighbors, then we will not shy away from speaking the whole truth. It is a kindness to tell others that refusing to embrace Jesus has horrible, eternal consequences.

Imagine you are hiking in the Smoky Mountains, and you come upon a raging mama bear. As you are beating a fast retreat, you come upon others heading that way. You wouldn’t try to turn them around just by commenting on the beauty below; you would be clear about the deadly danger that lies ahead. How much more if those travelers were headed for indescribable, ''eternal'' pain and suﬀering?

Our holy God is right, even loving, to cast the severest judgment on those who reject him and oppose his beloved people. He created us out of the overflow of his love because he desired to share the wonder of who he is with us for all eternity. His holy wrath guards his perfections ''forever'' so that he — and all those who love and embrace him — can enjoy pleasures ''forevermore'' (Psalm 16:11).

Fellow women, if we truly want to nurture, encourage, and show kindness as our God made us to do, we will have the courage to tell others the whole truth. When we help others understand the depth of their depravity, the wonderful news of saving grace available through Jesus, ''and'' the alternative for those who reject him, we will be faithful, loving, and true followers of Jesus. Isn’t that what we want most?

Are You Hesitant to Talk About Hell?

Kathyyee — Tue, 13 Jan 2026 20:24:20 GMT

Kathyyee:

Are You Hesitant to Talk About Hell?

Kathyyee — Tue, 13 Jan 2026 20:23:46 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '((info))'''Four Reminders for Women''' I admit, I am hesitant to talk about hell. I hadn’t really noticed until another woman asked me whether women seem reluctant to mention ...'

((info))'''Four Reminders for Women'''

I admit, I am hesitant to talk about hell. I hadn’t really noticed until another woman asked me whether women seem reluctant to mention hell, perhaps even and especially when we are talking to unbelievers. My first reaction was to think, ''Let’s talk about something else, shall we?'' The irony was not lost on me.

'''Easy (and Dangerous) to Ignore'''

While I’ve never seen data on the subject, I can understand why it might be more diﬃcult for women to warn people about hell. In general, the feminine nature leans toward nurturing, encouraging, and showing kindness. It is probably true that most women prefer to tread softly, trying to avoid oﬀense. If there is bad news, many of us would rather have someone else deliver it.

After all, we don’t want people to receive Jesus’s saving grace mostly out of fear of punishment or damnation. Instead, we want them to see their own sinfulness, realize their desperate need for a Savior, and eagerly embrace Jesus as the one who died to rescue them. True belief in Jesus guarantees an eternity with him — one filled with joy! Isn’t this all an unbeliever needs to hear?

Of course, these aspects of the gospel are some of the best and most important. But they are still only ''part'' of the story. If we share only the “good” part of the good news, never taking seriously God’s warnings of judgment, there is a real danger that those we care about will not truly understand how holy God is, how righteous his wrath is, and why our forgiveness required the sacrifice of the Son of God. Without hell in the picture, we can’t fully understand the true weight of our depravity and its consequences. When we diminish this weight, we diminish the magnitude of Jesus’s sacrifice — and therefore diminish the glory he deserves for giving his life.

Whether we talk about it or not, hell is real because God’s wrath is real (and just). There are many biblical references one could point to: Every New Testament author talks about hell, and Jesus himself warns about hell more than anyone else in the Bible. We can’t review them all, but John Piper helpfully highlights some places where Jesus, Paul, and John are clear about the reality and nature of hell. So, for all the women (like myself) who want to grow in their understanding, boldness, and love for God and others, consider these four basic realities about hell.

'''1. Hell is eternal.'''

In Mark 9:43, Jesus describes hell as an “unquenchable fire.” That is, it will ''never'' go out; there is no relief — ''forever''. In Mark 3:29, Jesus refers to blasphemy against the Holy Spirit as “an ''eternal'' sin.” It is not just one and done; there are never-ending consequences. In Matthew 25:46, speaking of separating the sheep and goats, Jesus says, “These will go away into ''eternal'' punishment, but the righteous into ''eternal'' life.” The parallel is unmistakable.

'''2. Hell is characterized by indescribable pain.'''

Jesus speaks of throwing the sinful and the law-breakers “into the fiery furnace” (Matthew 13:41–42) and “into the outer darkness” (Matthew 8:12), where they will be “cut . . . in pieces” (Matthew 24:51). These examples result in “weeping and gnashing of teeth.” The loving apostle John refers to those whose names are not written in the book of life as being thrown into the fire, where “they will be ''tormented'' day and night forever and ever” (Revelation 20:10, 15; 14:10–11).

'''3. Hell is deserved and perfectly just.'''

We are responsible for the way we regard our holy, righteous, and loving God — as well as for the implications thereof. Our indiﬀerence and rebellion store up his righteous wrath: “Because of your hard and impenitent heart you are storing up wrath for yourself on the day of wrath when God’s righteous judgment will be revealed” (Romans 2:5). Every time we choose our own way against God, we invite his wrath. And as the saints and angels show in the book of Revelation, those who understand God’s wrath most clearly cannot help but call it ''just'' (Revelation 15:3; 16:5, 7; 19:2).

'''4. Hell is escapable.'''

When we understand that our sinful nature is bent against the beauty and glory of our triune God, that our spirits most naturally and selfishly reject his perfect wisdom and authority — when we understand this and grieve deeply over it — then we begin to understand why God’s wrath and the punishment of hell are just. Then we truly appreciate the wondrous magnitude of Jesus’s sacrifice, paying the price for our evil resistance. Part and parcel of the good news is that hell is ''escapable'' if we embrace Jesus. An eternity of joy with God is our promised reward when we do. “Good news” seems like an understatement!

'''Love Tells the Whole Truth'''

If we women truly love our families, our friends, and our neighbors, then we will not shy away from speaking the whole truth. It is a kindness to tell others that refusing to embrace Jesus has horrible, eternal consequences.

Imagine you are hiking in the Smoky Mountains, and you come upon a raging mama bear. As you are beating a fast retreat, you come upon others heading that way. You wouldn’t try to turn them around just by commenting on the beauty below; you would be clear about the deadly danger that lies ahead. How much more if those travelers were headed for indescribable, ''eternal'' pain and suﬀering?

Our holy God is right, even loving, to cast the severest judgment on those who reject him and oppose his beloved people. He created us out of the overflow of his love because he desired to share the wonder of who he is with us for all eternity. His holy wrath guards his perfections ''forever'' so that he — and all those who love and embrace him — can enjoy pleasures ''forevermore'' (Psalm 16:11).

Fellow women, if we truly want to nurture, encourage, and show kindness as our God made us to do, we will have the courage to tell others the whole truth. When we help others understand the depth of their depravity, the wonderful news of saving grace available through Jesus, ''and'' the alternative for those who reject him, we will be faithful, loving, and true followers of Jesus. Isn’t that what we want most?

God Sees Your Secret Sin

Kathyyee — Thu, 11 Dec 2025 21:23:35 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "God Sees Your Secret Sin" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}

<blockquote>The eyes of the Lord are in every place, keeping watch on the evil and the good. (Proverbs 15:3)</blockquote>

When I was in my late teens and early twenties, battling sexual sin, I sometimes lived like God was blind (or, if not blind, at least distracted and oblivious). I would never have said he was blind — I would have scoffed at the idea. Behind that outward clarity, though, was an inward and poisonous uncertainty. I was coddling a lie.

Psalm 94 gives us a glimpse into the dangerous logic of persistent sin:

<blockquote>O Lord, how long shall the wicked, 
how long shall the wicked exult? . . . 
They kill the widow and the sojourner, 
and murder the fatherless; 
and they say, “''The Lord does not see.''” (Psalm 94:3, 6–7)</blockquote>

Satan whispered to Adam and Eve, “Did God ''actually'' say?” (Genesis 3:1). Here, he whispers, “Does God really ''see?'' No, God doesn’t see what you’re doing. He’s not able to watch everyone all the time. And if he is, he couldn’t possibly have the time or interest to deal with it. God doesn’t see your sinning. It’s safe to sin one more time.”

It’s not safe — first, because God does see; second, because eventually you won’t.

'''God Sees Your Sinning'''

Do you quietly believe that God doesn’t see your secret sin? Even if you know he sees, does your life say otherwise? God addresses the lie right here in Psalm 94:8–11. Hear the warning:

<blockquote>Understand, O dullest of the people! 
Fools, when will you be wise? 
He who planted the ear, does he not hear? 
He who formed the eye, does he not see? 
He who disciplines the nations, does he not rebuke? 
He who teaches man knowledge — 
the Lord — knows the thoughts of man, 
that they are but a breath.</blockquote>

He made the eye. Do you think he can’t see what you’re doing? He made the ear. Do you think he can’t hear what you’re saying? He doesn’t just know what you’re doing and saying; he knows what you’re ''thinking'' — he “knows the thoughts of man” (verse 11).

“No creature is hidden from his sight,” Hebrews 4:13 warns, “but all are naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must give account.” Do you feel naked and exposed before God? Do you remember that you’ll actually have to explain what he saw? These feelings and reminders are weapons God has given us in the fight for our holiness and joy — weapons we all too often leave buried in the basement.

The lie dies when we pray like the all-seeing God teaches us to pray:

<blockquote>O Lord, you have searched me and known me! 
You know when I sit down and when I rise up; 
you discern my thoughts from afar. 
You search out my path and my lying down 
and are acquainted with all my ways. 
Even before a word is on my tongue, 
behold, O Lord, you know it altogether. (Psalm 139:1–4)</blockquote>

God sees. And if you continue to act like he doesn’t, you’ll soon lose your ability to see.

'''Sin Darkens Your Seeing'''

Notice that the wicked in Psalm 94 don’t just quietly believe what Satan is saying. They don’t just ''think'' the lie in the back of their minds while they keep sinning. No, by verse 7, they’re preaching Satan’s terrible sermon for him. ''“They say'', ‘The Lord does not see.’”

That’s what indulging in sin — any sin — does to us. Sin takes us from ''believing'' “God doesn’t see” to ''preaching'' “God doesn’t see,” until we eventually reject and ignore God altogether.

Persistent sin hardens us until we can’t see or hear or feel spiritual reality anymore. And spiritual reality is ultimate reality, the most real reality. If we refuse to repent, we walk and eat and sin in a world ''filled'' with the glory of God — and yet we can’t see him or hear him anywhere. It’s like walking along the Pacific Ocean and wondering where the water is. Twelve thousand miles of waves are raging right beside you, and all you notice is the sand between your toes. God still sees everything, including all of you, but you see devastatingly little — nothing but grains of sand in a vast and thrilling world.

Sin does horrible things to people, and this is the worst thing it does to us. It slowly weakens our eyes until the unspeakably glorious God seems small, aloof, and then, eventually, imaginary. Giving in to sin will darken your soul by hiding heaven.

'''See Him as He Is'''

Is some sin doing that to you? You might say that God is real, that he sees everything, that he’ll judge every wrong one day — but if you secretly persist in that sin, you’re proving you don’t believe any of that. And if you keep returning to that swamp of lust or bitterness or greed or self-pity, you’ll see less and less and less until you can’t see at all. You’ll miss the ocean even as you stand in it.

Let today be the day your blinding ends. Jesus came to forgive our worst sins, even the ones we commit in secret. ''And'' he came to give us new and wider eyes. “Blessed are the pure in heart,” he promises, “for they shall see God” (Matthew 5:8). If spiritual blindness is the worst thing sin does to us, these new eyes might be the greatest mercy God gives us.

<blockquote>God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. (2 Corinthians 4:6)</blockquote>

While millions are blinded and imprisoned in the dark, our eyes fall on Jesus and see beauty, strength, truth, and worth. God sees all, and by his grace, he lets us see the glory he sees. And soon enough, these new eyes will be filled with him.

<blockquote>Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is. (1 John 3:2)</blockquote>

God Sees Your Secret Sin

Kathyyee — Thu, 11 Dec 2025 21:23:23 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}} <blockquote>The eyes of the Lord are in every place, keeping watch on the evil and the good. (Proverbs 15:3)</blockquote> When I was in my late teens and early twentie...'

Are You Still Gospel-Centered?

Kathyyee — Thu, 11 Dec 2025 21:01:07 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}} <blockquote>We must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it. (Hebrews 2:1)</blockquote> Gospel-centrality is not as popular as it o...'

{{info}}

<blockquote>We must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it. (Hebrews 2:1)</blockquote>

Gospel-centrality is not as popular as it once was. At least, the marketing movement built on gospel-centrality has declined over the past fifteen years. As an early adherent of the gospel-centered, “young, restless, and Reformed” whatchamacallit, I have watched many of my fellow tribesmen, usually leaders around my same age, gradually undergo a shift in their ministry emphases and spiritual priorities over the last decade, and it’s left me scratching my head a bit.

In the gospel-centered heyday, many young ministers, like myself, abandoned the seeker-sensitive church movement. Burned out by ever-demanding needs of innovative methodology and disillusioned by a pragmatic consumerism that appeared less and less tethered to the Scriptures, we ached for something with theological depth, biblical rigor, and historical roots.

Many others of us began to find our ministerial footing in burgeoning coalitions and organizations led by some elder statesmen who’d already been faithfully preaching the gospel for decades (men like John Piper, John MacArthur, R.C. Sproul, D.A. Carson, and others) alongside a gang of younger and louder leaders (like Mark Driscoll, Matt Chandler, and David Platt). For many Gen-X leaders, this mix of old and young, traditional and contemporary, scholarly and “culturally relevant” — all oriented around the gospel — held a potent attraction. It felt like we’d finally found our tribe. It felt like a homecoming.

Then the house fell apart.

'''Gospel-Confusion'''

Multiple stress fractures contributed to the splintering of the various ministry and ideological continents that today are the remnants of that once-large gospel-centered Pangaea. Leftist drift among some, fundamentalist drift among others, ministry scandals, political division, rivalries — all these (and more) contributed to the fracture. What is rather curious, however, is the disavowal of — and in some cases, the outright hostility toward — gospel-centrality that has emerged from many former gospel-centered guys.

As leaders grow up and gain experience, ideology shifts and theology develops — inevitably. But it’s become apparent, at least to me, that many of the currently gospel-''un''-centered guys never really embraced the substantial ideas of the gospel-centered paradigm in the first place. What they’d found, perhaps, was a marketing scheme that appealed to their disillusionment and desires.

And I’m not sure they’re entirely to blame. As one who has published multiple books and delivered messages using the language of “gospel-centered,” “gospel-driven,” and “gospel-whatever,” I admit that there is a real danger of adjectivizing the word “gospel” to the point of (sorry) ''gospel-confusion''.

I once spoke with another pastor about our apparently differing approaches to ministry. He and I share core theological commitments. We’re both Baptists. We’re both Reformed. We’re both biblical expositors. We even like a lot of the same famous writers and preachers. But when he referred to my being “gospel-centered,” he made scare quotes around the phrase with his fingers, indicating his sense of its ''otherness'', its murkiness, its superficiality. I realized then that we need to work harder to explain the ''what'' and the ''why'' of gospel-centrality. I was reminded that, for many, gospel-centrality is not a biblical paradigm but a cultural reference.

'''Truth Never Outgrown'''

When I ask the students in my ministry courses what “gospel-centered” means, they typically give some kind of circular answer: “It means to center everything on the gospel.” Okay. But what does that mean for life and ministry? What are the implications of that? I don’t often receive substantive answers. For many of these young men, being gospel-centered means listening to certain podcasts, favoring certain preachers, buying books from certain publishers, and going to certain conferences.

We can wring our hands about all of this. But there’s no going back. Movements come and go. Marketing speak that is tailored to the times will go (to paraphrase C.S. Lewis) where all times go. I’m not particularly interested in recovering a bygone lingo. But I think we should all be interested in recovering gospel-centrality itself.

We should take great care that, in outgrowing particular cultural moments, we do not outgrow the central place of the finished work of Jesus Christ.

'''Unadulterated Gospel'''

The first place I take students to consider the biblical argument for the gospel-centered paradigm is 1 Corinthians 15:1–4:

<blockquote>Now I would remind you, brothers, of the gospel I preached to you, which you received, in which you stand, and by which you are being saved, if you hold fast to the word I preached to you — unless you believed in vain. For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures.</blockquote>

These four short verses hold a treasure trove of information. First, Paul clarifies what the gospel actually ''is''. This articulation played an integral role in the beginning of the gospel-centered movement, before we got a little scattered in the consideration of “gospel issues.” The gospel is not law. The gospel is not anything we do. The gospel is an announcement. It’s a newspaper headline. It’s something God has done in and through Jesus Christ. The gospel is the good news that “Christ died for our sins,” that “he was buried,” and that “he was raised on the third day.” You can say a lot more about the gospel — and the Scriptures certainly do — but you can’t say any less.

But beyond the helpful rearticulation of the basic gospel message, we also see some incredible things that inform how we think about that gospel message. For instance, Paul says that Jesus died, was buried, and rose again “in accordance with the Scriptures.” When we put this claim in composite with Jesus’s own words about Scripture (Luke 24:27, 44), the sermons in Acts (2:16–36; 7:1–50; 28:23), and the apostolic writings elsewhere (Romans 10:5–11:36 or Galatians 4:21–31, for example, or ''the whole book of Hebrews''), we can see that the entire Bible is about Jesus. The whole Bible anticipates, foreshadows, prophesies, or proclaims the gospel. So, gospel-centrality necessarily entails a Christ-centered hermeneutic. That’s hugely important for ministry, not to mention the ordinary Christian life!

Consider also the phrasing in 1 Corinthians 15:1–2 about the ''effects'' of the gospel. Paul says to the believers in Corinth that they “received” the message (past tense), are standing in the message (present tense), and “are being saved” by the message (present-future tense). Herein lies the crux of gospel-centrality. We do not graduate from the good news. We don’t receive it at conversion and then move on to other, more pressing subjects. The gospel that justified us also sanctifies us. The gospel that grounds our right standing before God in the moment of new birth also grounds our right standing before God every day of our Christian life — even the good days. And the gospel that declares our sanctification in Christ empowers our progressive sanctification by the Spirit of Christ (2 Corinthians 3:18).

'''All Gospel, But Not Only'''

Of course, none of this means we reject the need for obedience under the guise of being “gospel-centered.” I try to regularly remind my seminary students and ministry residents that gospel-centrism isn’t gospel-''onlyism''. The Lord has given us two words: ''law'' and ''gospel''. And faithful preaching preaches both words. But the biblical proportion and biblical dynamic between these two words is crucial. Law and gospel are not some kind of Christian yin and yang to keep constantly in tension. We must rightly and faithfully preach obedience to God’s commands. And we must rightly and faithfully preach the gospel, which announces both our freedom from the law’s curse and our empowerment for the law’s instructions. As Paul writes in Titus 2:11–12, it is grace that trains us “to renounce ungodliness . . . and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives.”

It doesn’t really pain me to say that we don’t need to get back to the (finger quotes) “gospel-centered movement.” Well, okay, it doesn’t pain me much. But we do need to be constantly centered on the gospel. We don’t have to use that particular label or lingo. But we do need to take care that our aversion to it isn’t an aversion to the Bible’s centering message, hope, and power. Let others have their wisdom or eloquence. Let us resolve to know nothing but Christ and him crucified (1 Corinthians 2:2).

He Dawns as Wonderful Counselor

Kathyyee — Thu, 11 Dec 2025 20:52:26 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "He Dawns as Wonderful Counselor" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}

<blockquote>To us a child is born, to us a son is given . . . and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor. (Isaiah 9:6)</blockquote>

If you belong to Jesus, then you worship the God of double wonder.

When we say, “God is wonderful,” we often mean that something about him awes us into worship. We see him open wombs, split seas, destroy strongholds, save us — and we wonder at him.

<blockquote>Who is like you, O Lord, among the gods? 
Who is like you, majestic in holiness, 
awesome in glorious deeds, ''doing wonders?'' (Exodus 15:11)</blockquote>

But there is another side to God’s wonders. The words and ways of the wonderful God are not only awe-inspiring but ''unexpected''. They surprise us, startle us, and often confuse us along the way. God dealt wonderfully with his people when he brought Sarah’s dead womb to life, redeemed Israel through the sea, and made the mighty walls of Jericho fall. But before God’s ways seemed wonderfully worshipful, they seemed wonderfully mysterious: Childless Sarah grew older and older. The Israelites stood blocked by the sea. Joshua’s army kept circling the city. How strange God’s ways must have seemed as he set the stage for deliverance.

You and I need this God of double wonder. Our problems are too thorny, and our perspective too narrow, for us to find our own way. So often, we don’t even know what we need most deeply. How desperate we are, then, for a God who will accomplish not only what we can’t achieve on our own but what we can’t even ''imagine''. How desperate we are for a God who will meet our deepest needs, even if we feel pained and perplexed in the process.

We need a God in the whirlwind, a God we can’t tame, a God who is gracious and good yet also too big for us to grasp. We need, in a word, the one Isaiah spoke of so long ago:

<blockquote>To us a child is born, 
to us a son is given; 
and the government shall be upon his shoulder, 
and his name shall be called 
''Wonderful Counselor''. (Isaiah 9:6)</blockquote>

'''Wonderful Counselor'''

We might hear Isaiah’s messianic prophecy and assume “Wonderful Counselor” simply means this child’s wisdom surpasses all others. And we would be right in part. In this son, “something greater than Solomon is here” (Matthew 12:42). If Solomon had “breadth of mind like the sand on the seashore” (1 Kings 4:29), then this one’s mind has the breadth of ten million seashores. The wisest cannot rival him.

The double meaning of ''wonderful'', however, tells us that this son’s wisdom does not just surpass all others; it surprises all others. His counsel is in a different category from mere human counsel — not just the best of all but beyond all, on a higher, heavenly plane. When he arises to work his wonders, Isaiah says, “the wisdom of their wise men shall perish, and the discernment of their discerning men shall be hidden” (Isaiah 29:14). He is a son to confound all sages.

Across the Old Testament, we see God’s wonderful counsel at work as he upends human expectations again and again. He brings mighty Pharaoh to ruin (Exodus 3:20). He frightens thousands with just three hundred (Judges 7:21). Or as we already saw, he brings sons through barren women and topples walls with trumpets (Genesis 18:14; Joshua 6:20). As “the one who works wonders” (Judges 13:19), his ways make even the wisest wonder and say, “Who would’ve thought he’d do ''that?”''

We cannot put this Wonderful Counselor in a box. Beholden to none and bribed by none, he is utterly free to walk the paths of his God-exalting, pride-humbling, wisdom-thwarting ways. He is even free to take those ways, bundle them up in a boy, and walk among us as Wonderful Counselor incarnate.

'''Wonderful Christ'''

If the boy born in Bethlehem is really the Wonderful Counselor, then we would expect him to defy expectations. We would anticipate words not only insightful but unsettling, a man wise with otherworldly wisdom. We would look for one whose ways make the most intelligent men scratch their heads. And so we find in Jesus Christ.

Who expected him to stay at the temple as a twelve-year-old, or pass through Samaria to make a true worshiper, or heal (repeatedly) on the Sabbath, or overlook multitudes to call out tax collectors and invalids and prostitutes? So wonderful were his ways that even John the Baptist (himself a wonder) felt compelled to ask, “Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?” (Matthew 11:3). Isaiah could prophesy all he wanted; the Wonderful Counselor would still surprise everyone.

His wonders reach their climax when he, with a face set like flint toward Jerusalem, becomes not only the child born to us but the Christ crucified for us. No wise man expected Calvary. No sage foresaw the cross. “The discernment of their discerning men [was] hidden” beneath the black sky of Golgotha, as the one who works wonders worked the greatest one of all.

The Wonderful Counselor gave himself to the slaughter. And then (wonder of wonders!), he rose to die no more.

'''Wonderfully Ours'''

If you call the Christ born in Bethlehem your Wonderful Counselor, then you worship the God of double wonder.

First, you wonder with delight at his glory displayed in his word and in your life. He has been good to you, has he not? He has answered prayer, conquered sin, ministered comfort, and done more for you than you could have asked or imagined. The world might scorn or ignore him, but Jesus is wonderful to you.

Second, however, you may also wonder with confusion or sorrow at parts of your life that seem so broken. As you reflect on some failed relationship or ministry setback, some bodily pain or unanswered prayer, you cannot understand God’s purposes or trace his ways. You may feel perplexed to the point of despair.

Remember, dear saint, the words of a fellow confused sufferer:

<blockquote>God moves in a mysterious way, 
His ''wonders'' to perform.</blockquote>

We do not follow a predictable Christ. His counsel soars high above our heads. He is bound to surprise us, bound to make us wonder, ''What is he doing?'' He is the God who became man, the Counselor who became creature, the Wonder who walked among us, lived among us, died among us, and won the impossible victory.

So then, our wisdom, our peace, and our sanity is to worship him in the face of his wonders — knowing soul deep that if we are his, today’s sorrow will turn out better than we can dream. The child will arrive. The sea will split. The walls will fall. The stone will roll. Our Christ will come.

He Dawns as Wonderful Counselor

Kathyyee — Thu, 11 Dec 2025 20:50:56 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}} <blockquote>To us a child is born, to us a son is given . . . and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor. (Isaiah 9:6)</blockquote> If you belong to Jesus, then ...'

Motherhood Is a Refining Fire

Kathyyee — Thu, 11 Dec 2025 20:41:04 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "Motherhood Is a Refining Fire" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}Years of training in surgery equipped me with the skills and confidence to stop massive bleeding, remove gallbladders, and open the chest in under half a minute.

These skills meant bupkis when my toddler set a Scrabble game on fire.

Social media often depicts motherhood as a pristine, idyllic experience, replete with frolics through flower-draped meadows, matching outfits with crisp white collars, and platters of baked goods perfuming the air. The practicalities of motherhood, however, are often far messier than the ideal images we so jealously guard. Bruises and spit-up visit more frequently than chai spice and all-natural cotton. Tantrums and squabbles turn our beautifully orchestrated plans to rubble. We pride ourselves in our patience until another bottle of milk soaks the carpet. In the worst moments, we look at our failures, at the muddy work of our own hands, and plead for escape.

Weary mom, take heart. Those moments — the hardest, the most broken — are precisely when God can, in the words of John Bunyan, do his “wounding work,” conforming you into the image of his Son (''Works of John Bunyan'', 1:720). Motherhood is a gift and a blessing. It is a tremendous privilege to shepherd young hearts. It is also a refining fire, shaping us through its most challenging trials into greater Christlikeness.

'''Far from Idyllic'''

I encountered the chaotic realities of motherhood — and the ugliness within me — early in my parenting journey. Shortly after I left clinical practice in order to homeschool, I approached each morning with my kids as I would have approached an operation at work: methodically, my forehead crinkled in concentration as I arranged all the moments like glowing panels in a stained-glass window. On one such morning, I awoke with a throbbing headache but still tackled the day, resolved to cram learning, joy, togetherness, and productivity into every minute.

Then it started.

First, my three-year-old son decided to argue about almost everything: combing his hair, getting dressed, wearing a life preserver indoors, using a napkin, eating toast, his sister’s turtle socks, his sister’s existence, eating soup, not eating soup, hanging out of a window, and peregrine falcons.

Then my one-year-old daughter jumped into the fray. She stood on chairs, ripped books, and smeared Goldfish spittle on every surface. She whacked her head, wrist, foot, shoulder, and pinkie toe six times during illicit living-room acrobatics.

There was screaming. There were bloodied lips. There was a preschooler escaping outside into the snow in socks. There was that same preschooler howling because his feet were cold. Then there was smoke emanating from a Scrabble box after my daughter switched on a halogen light high on a games shelf.

As I snatched up the smoking box, I wanted to give up and return to my job at the hospital, where people listened to what I said and respected my words. I wanted to retreat to a place where I felt competent, where what I did seemed to matter. As these thoughts stormed my mind, my son asked for a drink of milk. With my last nerve frayed, I responded in a despicable way: I yelled at him.

As his face crumpled and his eyes welled with tears, the truth felt like a thunderclap in my brain: What mattered were not my accomplishments in a different season but the hearts placed into my care at that moment (Ephesians 6:4). My son’s tears were a mirror held to my face. In them, I saw the sin I cultivated with each groan of resentment. Through them, the Spirit confronted me to repent and receive grace through Christ.

'''Rest for the Weary'''

“Children are a heritage from the Lord” (Psalm 127:3), a gift from God for us to nurture, treasure, and shepherd (Deuteronomy 6:6–7). As mothers, we adore our children, we cherish them, and we long to join our husbands in bringing them up in the nurture and admonition of Christ (Ephesians 6:4).

But sometimes — if not oftentimes — our days look grubby against the ideal in our minds, our parenting skills deeply lacking compared to those of our heavenly Father. As fallen women caring for fallen children in a fallen world, too often parenting leaves us weary, bedraggled, and resentful. The long hours frequently sap our strength. If we leave a job to spend our days at home with our kids, we can question our self-worth when diapers and peanut butter and jelly replace meetings and paychecks and promotions. If we juggle work both inside and outside the home, our wells may run dry as we give every last ounce of ourselves in service.

In such moments, when our bones ache and we yearn for rest, our efforts as mothers can fall short. We raise our voices. We dismiss a child’s plea. We break promises. Bitterness simmers. Complaints well up from within.

Again, weary mother, take heart. In Christ, God is faithful to forgive whatever you confess (1 John 1:9). Through the cross, he has separated your sins from you “as far as the east is from the west” (Psalm 103:12). As fatigue weighs down your limbs and you pace with a child in the dead of night, he sees your service. He knows your exhaustion (Hebrews 4:15). He invites you to the true rest that comes only from him (Matthew 11:28).

And he can work through even those long, arduous days for your good and his glory (Romans 8:28).

'''A Refining Fire'''

As he did with my angry outburst over a smoking Scrabble box, God can work through every broken moment and every failure to remind us that his grace is sufficient, and his “power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9). In his mercy, the God who saves us through the blood of Christ can wash our filthiest rags white as snow (Isaiah 1:18; 64:6), working through our worst parenting days to shape us into “the image of his Son” (Romans 8:29). He does great things with the meager; he does beautiful things with the misshapen. He chooses the smallest, the humblest, the most broken as his servants (1 Samuel 16:10–12; Numbers 12:3; 1 Timothy 1:15). He works for good through the greatest calamities (Genesis 50:20). When his beloved people feel broken and crushed, he reaches through the firmament and in love makes things new (Revelation 21:5).

When the days bear down on you, remember that parenthood is a refining fire. It shapes. It tears down. It reduces falsehoods and artifice to ashes. Although the flames sting, through them God will burn away the sinful dross that’s really weighing down your weary soul. He will whittle and sculpt you into the image of Christ. And he will ignite in your heart a delight not in the work of your own hands, but in the One who has adopted you as his own beloved daughter (Ephesians 1:5) — no matter how your moments of motherhood unfold.

Motherhood Is a Refining Fire

Kathyyee — Thu, 11 Dec 2025 20:39:44 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}Years of training in surgery equipped me with the skills and confidence to stop massive bleeding, remove gallbladders, and open the chest in under half a minute. These s...'

Let Someone Serve You in Suffering

Kathyyee — Wed, 10 Dec 2025 02:46:57 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "Let Someone Serve You in Suffering" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}I don’t like asking for help. Frankly, I’d rather take care of myself, by myself.

But independence has become a thing of the past for me. Because of my disability and intensifying weakness, I can’t even get out of bed without help. My husband, Joel, shoulders nearly everything around our home, selflessly putting my needs before his. When he recently went out of town, I asked a friend to stay with me — though even that simple request felt humbling. I needed help with the smallest tasks: making coffee, bringing my food to the table, picking up afterward.

As my friend was leaving, I began to thank her, wanting to repay her in some way. But before I could finish, she interrupted me. “Thank you for letting me help you and telling me what you needed. You don’t know what a gift that was to me.”

Her words took me aback. I wasn’t sure how to respond, my eyes brimming with tears. I didn’t know how or why helping me was a gift to her, but I knew I needed to hear it. Maybe I wasn’t a burden or an inconvenience. What began as a gift to me, in some mysterious way, became a gift to her as well. This is the beauty of the body of Christ.

That experience made me wonder: Why is it so hard for me, and for many of us, to let others serve us in suffering?

'''Why We Resist'''

Asking for help makes us feel vulnerable. We can no longer pretend to be strong and capable, able to handle whatever we need on our own. Asking reveals that we’re weak and dependent.

Part of that vulnerability is the risk of rejection, since people can’t always respond to our requests. I remember reaching out to a friend during a difficult season, and when she couldn’t help, she offered alternatives — some that seemed to imply I didn’t really need what I had asked for. It stung to have my request dismissed, and for a while I hesitated to ask anyone else for help. Not asking felt safer than opening myself up to hurt again.

Sometimes we resist help because we’re embarrassed. We wonder if others will judge us or blame us for our situation — asking intrusive questions, making careless remarks, offering unsolicited advice. Those with modest or messy homes may fear scrutiny over where they live. Those in financial need may dread being labeled irresponsible or lazy. The sick may face insinuations that they “don’t look that ill.” When asking for help brings judgment, veiled or direct, we’d rather go without than feel the sting again.

Even when help comes without judgment, we’re still afraid of being a burden. No one wants to feel like a project or the object of pity. Most of us would rather serve than be served — giving feels noble while receiving feels awkward. Receiving is humbling, and so we resist it.

Peter felt that tension at the Last Supper when Jesus washed the disciples’ feet. He pulled back, declaring, “You shall never wash my feet” (John 13:8). Perhaps the act seemed too menial for his Lord; maybe Peter couldn’t bear the thought of Jesus stooping so low for him. But Jesus insisted: Unless Peter received this act of service, he could have no part with him.

When I step back and consider all the reasons I resist asking for help, the root issue is usually pride. I want to look strong and self-sufficient, freely serving others sacrificially — not the other way around. Admitting need exposes my weakness, invites rejection, and makes me vulnerable and uncomfortable. Yet Jesus calls us to humble ourselves and let others serve us.

'''What We Miss'''

Letting others help us not only meets our needs, but it also deepens our relationships. When we hide behind a mask of self-sufficiency, we may feel safe, but that safety costs more than we realize: Our needs go unmet, and we cut ourselves off from real intimacy. Sharing our weaknesses and needs invites others to draw closer, showing that we trust them enough to let them in. In the process, we receive the help we need, and our relationships grow richer.

Peter didn’t understand why Jesus needed to wash his feet, but Jesus explained to all the disciples: “If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you” (John 13:14–15). Jesus was calling them into a life of mutual service, of both giving and receiving.

Paul echoes this truth in his image of the body of Christ: “The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I have no need of you’” (1 Corinthians 12:21). When we refuse help, we are implying we don’t need others, rejecting the very design that God intended for his people. God calls us into a life of mutual care, reminding us that “if one member suffers, all suffer together” (1 Corinthians 12:26). When one part of our body aches, the whole body feels it; the same is true of Christ’s body.

Paul offers a striking example of both serving and being served. He poured himself out for the church, yet when he was imprisoned, he depended on others. The Philippians cared for him repeatedly, sending gifts when no one else did, and he thanked them for sharing in his trouble. Paul reminded them that by serving him, fruit would abound to their credit, God himself would supply all their needs, and God would be glorified through it all (Philippians 4:17–20). This is how the body of Christ works: When we allow others to serve us, God blesses them and us, and his glory shines through both.

From that perspective, refusing to ask may actually deny others joy. We think we’re sparing them trouble, but in reality we may be withholding the opportunity for a blessing. As Jesus said, “Give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap” (Luke 6:38). When we ask for help, God blesses us through the hands of others, and he blesses them in return. What feels humbling to us may become joy to them.

'''How to Ask for Help'''

I’ve often struggled to ask for help without feeling like a burden. Maybe you have too. It can feel especially hard around Christmas, when everyone seems so busy. That’s when I most need a reminder to reach out, and the acronym SHARE (which I included in my ''Desperate for Hope Bible'' study) has helped me do it with both humility and honesty. I hope it can encourage you as well.

*''Seek'' the Lord’s direction for whom to ask and how they might help (James 1:5).
*''Honestly'' share what’s happening, even when it feels humbling (1 Peter 5:5).
*''Ask'' specifically for what you need so others can help carry your burden (Galatians 6:2).
*''Respect'' people’s limits, trusting God to provide through others if they cannot (Philippians 4:19).
*''Encourage'' those who serve you, showing gratitude and praying for them (Romans 1:11–12).
There is joy in serving. But there is also humility and grace in allowing ourselves to be served.

The call is simple but not easy: Let others share the burden. Let them be part of God’s provision. Let them suffer with you by serving you.

Let Someone Serve You in Suffering

Kathyyee — Wed, 10 Dec 2025 02:46:23 GMT

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Temptation Comes at the Best Moments

Kathyyee — Wed, 03 Dec 2025 19:09:10 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "Temptation Comes at the Best Moments" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

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<blockquote>When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with the humble is wisdom. . . . Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall. (Proverbs 11:2; 16:18)</blockquote>

If you were going to ambush a believer and lure him with some temptation, when would you do it? When do you think he would be most vulnerable, most likely to ignore all that he knows about God and holiness and joy, and to believe — even for one devastating moment — that sin might be more fulfilling and satisfying than all of that? When would you strike?

Satan himself might say (if it’s possible for him to be honest) that we are most vulnerable on the heels of a major victory or deliverance. John Newton noticed this troubling (and illuminating) thread woven through the spiritual giants in Scripture:

<blockquote>I have observed that most of the advantages Satan is recorded to have gained against the Lord’s servants, have been after great and signal deliverances and favours; as in the cases of Noah, Lot, David, and Hezekiah. And I have found it so repeatedly in my own experience. (''Letters of John Newton'', 175)</blockquote>

How many times have we seen the same? God seems to suddenly pour out anointing and favor on a faith-filled ministry, only to have that person betray his grace with a false kiss — with some equally surprising act of unbelief. With egregious sin.

Sure, we expect Satan to come in trials and griefs, to prey on the confused and hurting. But do we expect him when things are going unusually well? We really should.

'''Falling in Days of Winning'''

''When did Noah fall?'' We remember the humiliating scene: “Noah began to be a man of the soil, and he planted a vineyard. He drank of the wine and became drunk and lay uncovered in his tent” (Genesis 9:20–21). And when did that happen? Right after one of history’s greatest deliverances, when God’s mighty flood wiped out every family on earth but one.

Noah was “a righteous man, blameless in his generation” (Genesis 6:9). He didn’t fall when God asked him to do the impossibly hard thing. He didn’t fall when the crowds ignored his warnings and mocked the ark. He didn’t fall when forty days had come and gone on the boat, and yet the dove still came back empty-mouthed. No, he fell in the days of his vindication.

''When did David fall?'' “In the spring of the year, the time when kings go out to battle . . .” (2 Samuel 11:1). The verse may ring hauntingly familiar, even if you’ve never tried to memorize it. David sent good men off to war while he “manned” the couch. “It happened, late one afternoon, when David arose from his couch and was walking on the roof of the king’s house, that he saw from the roof a woman bathing; and the woman was very beautiful” (2 Samuel 11:2). Then he summoned the woman, slept with the woman, and had her husband killed.

And when did all of that happen? Right after David had ridden into battle and delivered a crushing blow to the Syrians, killing tens of thousands of enemies (2 Samuel 10:18–19). He didn’t fall when Saul repeatedly slandered him and tried to kill him. He didn’t fall when his son Absalom betrayed him and stole the throne. No, he fell in a day of victory.

And so it was with Lot, who fell right after God plucked him out of the sulfur and fire falling on Sodom and Gomorrah (Genesis 19:30–38). And so it was with Hezekiah, who fell right after God healed the king when he was on the brink of death (2 Kings 20:12–19). Temptation, it seems, often comes at the best moments — the moments when we’re riding some spiritual high or enjoying some spiritual victory. Garrett Kell sounds the warning: “If sin seduced the strongest man (Samson), the wisest man (Solomon), and the man after God’s own heart (David), it can outsmart, overpower, and overcome you too.” In Solomon’s own words, “Pride goes before the fall,” because Satan knows the crash is harder and more destructive when we fall from the mountaintop of God’s favor (see Proverbs 16:18).

'''A Battle Plan for Better Days'''

Have you recently experienced a breakthrough of some kind? Has God blessed the ministry in your church or neighborhood? Is God answering big prayers in your work, and giving you new measures of success? Has a long-lost family member finally come to Jesus? Has some horribly broken relationship been restored and sweetened? Don’t let this sudden and obvious grace from the Lord become an excuse to relax and stop fighting. No, “be sober-minded; be watchful” (1 Peter 5:8). Your enemy still prowls, maybe even nearer than before, in days of great victory.

Proverbs 3:5–8 lays out a battle plan against the proud complacency that so often plagues days of favor:

<blockquote>Trust in the Lord with all your heart, 
and do not lean on your own understanding. 
In all your ways acknowledge him, 
and he will make straight your paths. 
Be not wise in your own eyes; 
fear the Lord, and turn away from evil. 
It will be healing to your flesh 
and refreshment to your bones.</blockquote>

When God blesses the work of your hands, remember that it’s ultimately the work of his hands. Acknowledge him in all your ways, and refuse the thought that your success proves your wisdom and strength. The next verse drives the point home: “Honor the Lord with your wealth and with the firstfruits of all your produce” (Proverbs 3:9). Take whatever he blesses you with — in health, in spiritual insight, in marriage, in parenting, in ministry — and find a way to honor him with it.

And if you, like Noah or David or Lot or Hezekiah, have already fallen from some high place into temptation, know that God holds out great grace even for great falls. In Newton’s same pastoral letter, just below the warning above, the good pastor says,

<blockquote>When we have said all we can of the aboundings of sin in us, grace still more abounds in Jesus. We cannot be so evil as he is good. His power is a good match for our weakness; his riches for our poverty; his mercy for our misery. We are vile in ourselves; but we are complete in him. In ourselves we have cause to be abased; but in him we may rejoice. (''Letters of John Newton'', 176)</blockquote>

Temptation Comes at the Best Moments

Kathyyee — Wed, 03 Dec 2025 19:08:46 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}} <blockquote>When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with the humble is wisdom. . . . Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall. (Proverbs 11:...'

Where the Wild Things Are

Kathyyee — Wed, 03 Dec 2025 19:02:37 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "Where the Wild Things Are" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}

<blockquote>Where there are no oxen, the manger is clean, but abundant crops come by the strength of the ox. (Proverbs 14:4)</blockquote>

Believe it or not, this text teaches us about parenting. It’s about the household.

Specifically, it can volunteer as a life verse for some mothers with young children. The more vivacious and colorful your children’s personalities or the more allergic to tidiness and sedentary play, the timelier this verse comes to your soul. Mothers who live on the cul-de-sac of Wit’s End, perhaps mothers with several precious boys — you know who you are — let the word of God cut to the heart of unrealistic expectations and bestow peace. We can rewrite the principle like this: “Where no children are, the house is clean.”

'''The Less Clean Home'''

''Where there are no oxen, the manger is clean.'' Where no beasts frequent the stable, the stable remains pristine. When kennels do not have pets, when nests do not have birds, when rooms do not have children, cleanliness is stress-free. Management of a household is easier when those under your management do not spend portions of their day undoing what you have done.

When solely considering the tidiness of a house, young children are mutineers, conspirators, saboteurs. Their creativity rarely surfaces so fully, so consistently, so impressively as when they devise new schemes to make messy what once was clean. In the blink of an eye, they color the walls and ceiling as the Sistine Chapel. With military precision, they leave Legos strewn across the floor as landmines to be discovered in the dead of night. They glue together what God never meant to be joined. And they coordinate their attacks, never better friends than when sowing chaos. If every mother dreams of spotless living rooms, uncluttered kitchens, and sparkling bathrooms — no child shares this dream.

''Where no children are, the house is clean.'' Where no wild things are, the van has better resale value, the yard is not landscaped with toys, the toilet seats need little wiping, and the house is not perpetually in a “used” condition. The principle here assumes that where these little bundles of joy roam, the house will be less kept. More work exists in a full house — especially when the children are younger and clustered together. We discipline — we teach them to clean up and give them boundaries not to be crossed by pen or permanent marker — yet they are children still. They make messes with greater efficiency than most of us clean up.

So let’s talk about it: your expectations for your household. Perfectionists, are we accounting for who is living in our house? Where no oxen are, the manger is clean; where many oxen are, the crib is, well, less clean. Trouble comes when those who have oxen in their homes have oxen-free standards of cleanliness.

Oh, you Marthas, you are anxious about many things. And with each new child, new anxieties crouch at your door. Their desire is for you. You have new responsibilities and less time to continue old responsibilities. Many of you are worthy women, “the wisest of women builds her house” (Proverbs 14:1). But breathe, dear sister, dear mother. With littles, the house cannot be kept ready for a photoshoot.

Now, I do not mean to intrude on your home. Speak with your husband and talk over expectations. My wife and I profited from discussing what our standards should be for our home ''in this season of life''. In this season of life is key.

In my small survey, it seems that a wife often labors under a standard far surpassing that of her husband — perhaps with an eye to other women visiting. Thus the proverb’s relief. Wisdom presumes what is obvious: More creatures in the stable means more mess, which means more work, which means less ability to keep things looking untouched. The household aesthetic is part of the “cost” of precious littles. But when the temptation comes to live by Pinterest ideals, the proverb reminds us the tiny clutterers are worth it.

'''The Abundant Home'''

<blockquote>Where there are no oxen, the manger is clean, but abundant crops come by the strength of the ox. (Proverbs 14:4)</blockquote>

Overwhelmed mothers, you are tired because mothering is hard, but remember your blessing. The pews are filled with young, middle-aged, and older women who would love to take your place. They would trade babies for tidy beds. The quiet and kept house can be a sadness to them. Either their nests have emptied — only beautiful memories of messiness remain — or their nests never held baby birds.

How they long to hear the chirping again. Young mothers, I have it on good authority that if you live long enough, you will come to miss these days of blessed inefficiency. Keep perspective among the fog.

The emphasis is placed upon the second part of the proverb: Mess and hard work come with oxen, yes, but with abundant crops also. Life may be messier, but our lives are mightier. Children, as the ox, add strength to us after many years of investment. As we train them in the fear of our Lord, and as he too trains them in the fear of the Lord, they become productive members of the household and society. They always added joy to us; now they add increase. We gladly sacrifice comfort and spotless homes for the far greater treasure of having children — not oxen but undying souls.

Many in the younger generation fail to believe children are assets. They view them as liabilities; children murder free time and clutter lives. ''The dog is less needy,'' they reason; its kennel is easier to clean and its life less demanding. And dogs live shorter lives, and are simpler to remove. So, fertile couples raise their child-dog as a family member instead of kids. But, as the ''Life Application Study Bible'' adds, “The only way to keep your life free of people problems is to keep it free of people. But if your life is empty of people, it is useless; and if you live only for yourself, your life loses its meaning. . . . Is your life clean but empty?”

Our lives will be messier. Our plans will be derailed; our nights unexpectedly devoured. We will often pay the cost of undivided friendships, free time, and nights spent only with our spouses. But it is worth it. Children are an investment that leads to ''abundance'' in the end.

'''Father’s Home'''

''These days too shall pass,'' I’m told. The days are coming when the kids can get themselves in the car and make themselves breakfast. They will be able to use the bathroom during the sermon and clean up their own rooms without adding confusion to the chaos. And on that day, when we can gather around the table and eat without boosters and highchairs and bibs, we will be able to bear witness to our Lord’s goodness and faithfulness to give us each other.

In those days of independence, we will look back fondly on their dependence. And by God’s grace, we will give thanks for seasons of what felt like unpleasant work, because it reaped a harvest. Increase and abundance will beautify the memory of uncleanness and disorder. Until then, the manger and the house and the car are less clean than we would like.

As a parting thought, consider our theme in light of God’s heart, which moved him to make this fallen world his home. He could have avoided this whole mess of sin and death and redemption; he could have spared his Son and populated the earth with puppies — if only he never made us. But he did make us. The earth could have been kept clean of wars and ugliness and pollution if only he had ended all with the flood. Where no people or fallen angels are, the earth is as clean as heaven.

But God endured, overcame, and brought forth eternal abundance. Christ took upon himself our sin that we might take upon ourselves his perfect purity. In its own small way, our happy parenting over a realm less clean than it ought to be — than it will be someday — joins in as a faint echo of that perfect story.

Where the Wild Things Are

Kathyyee — Wed, 03 Dec 2025 19:02:16 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}} <blockquote>Where there are no oxen, the manger is clean, but abundant crops come by the strength of the ox. (Proverbs 14:4)</blockquote> Believe it or not, this text ...'

Keep the Gospel at Your Fingertips

Kathyyee — Thu, 20 Nov 2025 22:05:26 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "Keep the Gospel at Your Fingertips" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}Some months ago, my church installed a new security system. One day soon after, I entered the building, unaware that the system was active. To my surprise and consternation, a panel by the door began to count down. If I didn’t enter my personal code, an alarm would sound. Sweating bullets, I tried desperately to remember the code. I couldn’t. Time expired. An alarm began to sound, making it even harder to think. I could imagine the headline: “Pastor Arrested Entering Own Church.”

Thankfully, no crisis ensued. As the alarm kept sounding, the code suddenly sprang to my mind. I punched it in. No police. No more alarm. Blessed silence.

Did I know the code during those first moments of blank panic? Yes and no. I simultaneously knew it and didn’t. It must have been somewhere in my mind (otherwise I couldn’t have recalled it later). But initially, it was inaccessible and therefore useless. It’s one thing to have a fact buried in your head and another to have it at your fingertips.

That’s true in the Christian life as well. We may have the basic facts of the gospel story present in our grey matter, but is gospel truth accessible and impactful? Is it at our fingertips when we receive unkind criticism, when a friend betrays us, when the medical scan raises concerns? In those moments, do we really know the gospel?

‘I Would Remind You’
In 1 Corinthians 15:1–4, the apostle Paul says he’s writing in order to remind his readers of what they already know.

<blockquote>Now I would remind you, brothers, of the gospel I preached to you, which you received, in which you stand, and by which you are being saved, if you hold fast to the word I preached to you — unless you believed in vain. For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried . . . (1 Corinthians 15:1–4)</blockquote>

Paul had preached the gospel during his time in Corinth. Some of his hearers had “received” that good news. And it stuck; Paul says they’re now standing in it and being saved by it. So, why does he now remind them of what they already know? Because he wants the gospel to be accessible and impactful. He wants them to ''know'' it.

Our brains are full of a thousand daily thoughts. “I need to pick up a gallon of milk, get the kids to soccer practice, and schedule a dental appointment.” They’re stuffed with a thousand deep stories. “I’m damaged, unlovable, inadequate.” “I want to make my parents proud.” “I’m a good person, better than most.” Is gospel truth prominent and productive in this pile of thoughts and stories? Is it making a difference? Or, like my alarm code (which I knew but didn’t ''know''), is it buried in our brains, inaccessible and useless?

Imagine you have a collection of seven thousand pennies. Someone tosses another penny onto the pile. You now own that penny — but you’ll never find it! Similarly, how accessible and impactful is the gospel among our thousand thoughts?

'''Gospel for Right Now'''

In 1 Corinthians 15:1–4, Paul highlights three truths about the gospel. The reminder doesn’t put them into our brains for the first time. (If we’re Christians, they’re already there.) Instead, it helps us to draw them out when we need them. It puts gospel truth at our fingertips.

'''1. Jesus’s death is supremely important.'''

Paul says, “For I delivered to you as of first importance . . .” and then he highlights Jesus’s death and resurrection. Jesus’s death isn’t just one thing among others. It’s the thing. That’s why Paul says earlier in his letter, “I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Corinthians 2:2).

The death of Jesus isn’t some ordinary penny you throw into the pile with seven thousand others. It’s the lucky penny you frame on the wall and look at every day. Jesus’s death isn’t just one more fact alongside all the others in your brain (there are sixty minutes in an hour; Washington, DC, is the US capital; the moon is 240,000 miles from earth). No. The death of Jesus is of supreme importance.

'''2. Jesus’s death really happened.'''

Paul says he delivered “what [he] also received” (1 Corinthians 15:3). That means he didn’t make it up. Rather, he himself learned about Jesus’s death before conveying it to others. He was a student before he was a teacher. First Corinthians 15:1–4 likely preserves the words of a Christian creed — and if so, it must have been a very early one, from within perhaps a decade of Jesus’s own lifetime, because Paul learned it before his missionary work in Corinth in AD 49. This is evidence that Jesus’s death really happened.

Moreover, Paul says, “Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures . . . he was buried” (1 Corinthians 15:3–4). Here are two more evidences of Jesus’s death: (1) Long before it happened, the Hebrew Scriptures said it would, and (2) Jesus’s dead body was buried. Joseph of Arimathea took it down from the cross and placed it in a tomb, and witnesses observed where it was laid. Jesus really died.

'''3. Jesus’s death saves.'''

Paul’s gospel reminder includes the announcement that “Christ died for our sins” (1 Corinthians 15:3). ''Christ'' means ''Messiah'', the long-expected Savior and King, and that Savior died “for our sins.” His death was substitutionary and atoning. He bore the divine punishment deserved by sinners.

Could severe physical suffering or a near-death experience have achieved that result? Not for the sins Paul had already mentioned in his letter (1 Corinthians 6:9–10), and not for the sins you and I have done. Jesus had to die. We were separated from God by the weight of our sins, but “we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son” (Romans 5:10). Jesus’s death saves.

'''Ready with the Gospel'''

Jesus’s death is supremely important. Jesus’s death really happened. Jesus’s death saves. Of course, if we’re Christians, we already know these things. But do we know them? Are they accessible and impactful? Do they speak into our daily struggles, our persistent insecurities, our cherished aspirations?

If you wanted to keep track of that one new penny dropped among seven thousand others, you’d find a way to keep it distinct and accessible. Perhaps you’d spray-paint it bright yellow, or maybe you’d keep it on top of the pile. Likewise, we can spray-paint gospel truth and keep it uppermost. We do so by regularly ''reminding'' ourselves: by singing it with others who treasure it as we do, by reading it often in the Bible and lingering long enough to set our hearts ablaze, by praying it into all the corners and crevices of our lives.

We faithfully oil and clean the sword of the Spirit so it’s ready for battle at a moment’s notice. We daily mutter the alarm code so that we don’t go blank when the countdown commences. “Now I would remind you, brothers, of the gospel I preached to you” (1 Corinthians 15:1). We remember what we know.

Keep the Gospel at Your Fingertips

Kathyyee — Thu, 20 Nov 2025 22:05:15 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}Some months ago, my church installed a new security system. One day soon after, I entered the building, unaware that the system was active. To my surprise and consternati...'

How Do I ‘Look to Jesus’?

Kathyyee — Tue, 18 Nov 2025 01:43:31 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "How Do I ‘Look to Jesus’?" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}If you wanted to capture the heart of the Christian life in a phrase, you might do no better than these three words: “Looking to Jesus” (Hebrews 12:2). From beginning to end, from morning till night, yesterday and today and forever, we Christians look and look and look to Jesus.

As John Newton wrote, after quoting the words “looking to Jesus” in a letter, “The duty, the privilege, the safety, the unspeakable happiness, of a believer, are all comprised in that one sentence” (''The Letters of John Newton'', 47).

Or, as Robert Murray M‘Cheyne memorably counseled a friend, “Learn much of the Lord Jesus. For every look at yourself, take ten looks at Christ. He is altogether lovely” (''The Memoir and Remains of Robert Murray M‘Cheyne'', 293).

Or, as Charles Spurgeon preached, any Christian desiring to “pursue life after a right fashion must look to Jesus, and must continue looking unto Jesus.” Indeed, “think of him, consider him, study him, and in all things regard him as first and last to you” (“Eyes Right”).

But for all the inspiration we find in the phrase “looking to Jesus,” we may struggle to know exactly what it means. Look to Jesus, yes — but how? Picture him in my mind’s eye? Remember a story about him from the Gospels? Repeat his name in prayer? How does “looking to Jesus” turn from a beautiful but vague idea to an “unspeakably happy” practice?

Taking our cue from Hebrews, we might say that looking to Jesus means looking personally, patiently, and powerfully at the unsearchable Christ of Scripture.

'''Seeing the Invisible'''

Before considering those three ways of looking, ponder for a moment what we even mean by the word ''look''. How do we ''look'' to a Savior we cannot see?

The kind of looking Hebrews has in mind does not involve physical eyesight. The blind can obey Hebrews 12:2. Looking to Jesus happens with the eyes of the heart, not the eyes of the head; as Paul might say, “we [look] by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7).

Hebrews 11 offers several examples of this spiritual look. Abraham “''was looking forward'' to the city that has foundations” (verse 10). He and the other patriarchs “died in faith, not having received the things promised, but ''having seen'' them and greeted them from afar” (verse 13). Likewise, Moses left Egypt by “''looking'' to the reward,” and he “endured as ''seeing'' him who is invisible” (verses 26–27). Faith turns “things not seen” — heaven, the Holy Spirit, Jesus, the world to come — into precious, spiritually visible realities (verse 1).

Note how, in each case, these saints saw something they first ''heard'' about. Abraham and Sarah, Jacob and Moses saw “the things ''promised''” by the God who speaks (verse 13). The invisible became visible only through the glasses of God’s word. In a remarkable way, they saw through their ears; they looked by listening and considering “him faithful who had promised” (verse 11).

So, when we look to Jesus, we hear something God has said about his Son — and by faith, we let what God has said speak a louder word than what we see. No matter how real or powerful or alluring our circumstances may be, we look to Jesus and believe that he is more real, more powerful, and more alluring still.

And we do so, first, by looking personally.

'''Look Personally'''

When we look to Jesus, we don’t look as a college student might look at an astronomy textbook or as someone might look at faraway news: interesting, perhaps, but not relevant to my life. We look instead as a wounded man looks at first-aid instructions or a lost man looks at a map. We look as those involved in a deeply personal way.

The words “looking to Jesus” come in a context of acute personal need. Many of the believers who received the letter of Hebrews felt weary and fainthearted. In the race of faith, they had lost sight of the finish and so were beginning to stumble. Some wanted to stop running altogether.

And so, when the author tells them to look to Jesus, he does so in a way that connects ''their'' personal need to ''his'' person and work. The Jesus he tells them to look to is the one who ran the race himself “for the joy that was set before him” and who now sits at the Father’s right hand as “the founder and perfecter” of his people’s faltering faith (Hebrews 12:2). So, “look to Jesus” does not mean “think of anything at all about Jesus” but rather “think of Jesus in a way that perfectly suits your pressing need.”

“From every text of Scripture there is a road to Christ,” Spurgeon said. And from every need of our souls there is a road to Christ. Throughout Hebrews, the author ransacks the glories of Jesus and applies those parts of his character that connect most closely with his readers’ needs. For the tempted, Jesus is “a merciful and faithful high priest” (2:17); for the dull and distracted, he is “the radiance of the glory of God” (1:3); for the conscience-stricken, he is the “once for all . . . sacrifice” (9:26). And on and on we could go.

We have no problem Jesus can’t address, no riddle he can’t solve, no wound he can’t heal, no pain he can’t comfort, no sin he can’t forgive, no enemy he can’t overpower, and no longing he can’t meet fully and forever. As M‘Cheyne writes, “There is nothing that you can possibly need but you will find it in him” (''Memoir and Remains'', 304).

Often, then, the first step in looking to Jesus is naming our need. What temptation won’t leave us? What doubt won’t depart? What pressure or pain won’t relent? Whatever our need, something in Jesus is ''perfectly'' suited to bring rescue and relief.

'''Look Patiently'''

Jesus has no lack of resources to meet our every need. But given how varied, complex, and stubborn our struggles can be, tying what we ''need'' to who he is and what he’s ''done'' can take time. Looking to Jesus is more patient gaze than hasty glance.

How should a stressed and impatient mom look to Jesus? How should a young man struggling with lust? How should a Christian who clams up around unbelievers? How should ''you?'' True, some parts of Jesus’s person and work shine so clear and precious that they lend ready help to all kinds of needs. Knowing Jesus as near, faithful, strong, merciful, and oh so ready to help will take us a long way in any situation. But Hebrews has more for us.

The author of Hebrews spent untold hours poring over the Scriptures that testify to Christ. He lingered in Leviticus, puzzled over Psalms, meditated on Melchizedek, unpacked Davidic promises, and combed through the whole counsel of God to learn what he could of his Lord. If you were to ask him, “Who is Jesus?” he has more than a dozen answers. And if you were to follow with, “What has Jesus done?” he could give you at least two dozen more.

Jesus is God’s Son, the heir of all, the firstborn, and our brother. He is the founder of our salvation, the high priest of our confession, the forerunner on our behalf, and the med''Italic text''iator of a better covenant. He has become like us, spoken to us, tasted death for us, and gone ahead of us. He has suffered, learned obedience, remained faithful, and done God’s will.

Why such variety? Why such careful study? Why has our author spent more time in Leviticus than many of us have in Luke or John? Because an unclear Christ holds little power over all-too-clear sins. We can say the name of Jesus as much as we want and tell ourselves to “look to Jesus” every hour, but unless ''Jesus'' is filled with glorious, multifaceted, whole-Bible ''content'', we are like the half-blind man who looked and saw people “like trees, walking” (Mark 8:24). Could it be that a certain sin holds power over you because you know it far more clearly than you know ''him?''

Whoever we are, we could hardly do anything more practical than heed M‘Cheyne’s counsel and “learn much of the Lord Jesus.” For every bit of him benefits us — every jewel from his unsearchable riches, every line from the boundless book of his glory, every ray coming from his face that shines like the sun.

'''Look Powerfully'''

Looking to Jesus begins personally, proceeds patiently, and, when done well, ends powerfully. For the original audience of Hebrews, looking to Jesus would have led to laying aside weights and sins, and running their race without fainting (Hebrews 12:1–2). And so for us, looking to Jesus leads to practical obedience in the place of our need. We are not talking about a nice little technique that gives more peace of mind; we are talking about a practice with ''power.''

But how does that work? How does our personal, patient looking lead to powerful obedience? It does so as our sight of Christ moves from mind to heart and will. Looking to Jesus involves not just knowing but also trusting and treasuring. The sight is not just specific but sweet, not just clear but compelling. Or, as Hebrews emphasizes, we come to see and feel that Jesus is ''bigger'' than our struggles and better than our sins.

We need a ''big'' Jesus, do we not? We need one whose death destroys the devil, one whose blood speaks a better word than the blood of Abel, one who reigns and rescues by the power of an indestructible life (Hebrews 2:14; 7:16; 12:24). And we need a ''better'' Jesus, do we not? We need one who offers a better hope, a better possession, a better country, and a better life than sin ever could (Hebrews 7:19; 10:34; 11:16, 35).

The power to see Jesus as bigger and better comes not only from finding the parts of him we most need but also from lingering over them, praying over them, ''meditating'' over them. Tim Keller describes this meditative process as “thinking a truth ''out'' and then thinking a truth in until its ideas become ‘big’ and ‘sweet,’ moving and affecting, and until the reality of God is sensed upon the heart” (Prayer, 162).

Maybe all this talk of looking personally, patiently, and powerfully daunts you. Maybe looking to Jesus once sounded simple but now no longer. If so, join me in taking heart. Looking to Jesus well takes patience and practice, yes — and I myself feel like a novice. But looking to Jesus is also something we can start doing (and benefit from doing) right now, however much or little we know of him. It begins by simply naming our need, finding something specific about Jesus that meets our need, and then lingering over it long enough to feel some of its sweetness.

The longer we look, the more we’ll see — and the more convinced we’ll be that his riches really are unsearchable and his perfections are perfectly suited to meet our every need.

How Do I ‘Look to Jesus’?

Kathyyee — Tue, 18 Nov 2025 01:43:16 GMT

Kathyyee:

How Do I ‘Look to Jesus’?

Kathyyee — Tue, 18 Nov 2025 01:42:37 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}If you wanted to capture the heart of the Christian life in a phrase, you might do no better than these three words: “Looking to Jesus” (Hebrews 12:2). From beginning...'

{{info}}If you wanted to capture the heart of the Christian life in a phrase, you might do no better than these three words: “Looking to Jesus” (Hebrews 12:2). From beginning to end, from morning till night, yesterday and today and forever, we Christians look and look and look to Jesus.

As John Newton wrote, after quoting the words “looking to Jesus” in a letter, “The duty, the privilege, the safety, the unspeakable happiness, of a believer, are all comprised in that one sentence” (''The Letters of John Newton'', 47).

Or, as Robert Murray M‘Cheyne memorably counseled a friend, “Learn much of the Lord Jesus. For every look at yourself, take ten looks at Christ. He is altogether lovely” (''The Memoir and Remains of Robert Murray M‘Cheyne,''''Italic text'' 293).

Or, as Charles Spurgeon preached, any Christian desiring to “pursue life after a right fashion must look to Jesus, and must continue looking unto Jesus.” Indeed, “think of him, consider him, study him, and in all things regard him as first and last to you” (“Eyes Right”).

But for all the inspiration we find in the phrase “looking to Jesus,” we may struggle to know exactly what it means. Look to Jesus, yes — but how? Picture him in my mind’s eye? Remember a story about him from the Gospels? Repeat his name in prayer? How does “looking to Jesus” turn from a beautiful but vague idea to an “unspeakably happy” practice?

Taking our cue from Hebrews, we might say that looking to Jesus means looking personally, patiently, and powerfully at the unsearchable Christ of Scripture.

'''Seeing the Invisible'''

Before considering those three ways of looking, ponder for a moment what we even mean by the word ''look''. How do we ''look'' to a Savior we cannot see?

The kind of looking Hebrews has in mind does not involve physical eyesight. The blind can obey Hebrews 12:2. Looking to Jesus happens with the eyes of the heart, not the eyes of the head; as Paul might say, “we [look] by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7).

Hebrews 11 offers several examples of this spiritual look. Abraham “''was looking forward'' to the city that has foundations” (verse 10). He and the other patriarchs “died in faith, not having received the things promised, but ''having seen'' them and greeted them from afar” (verse 13). Likewise, Moses left Egypt by “''looking'' to the reward,” and he “endured as ''seeing'' him who is invisible” (verses 26–27). Faith turns “things not seen” — heaven, the Holy Spirit, Jesus, the world to come — into precious, spiritually visible realities (verse 1).

Note how, in each case, these saints saw something they first ''heard'' about. Abraham and Sarah, Jacob and Moses saw “the things ''promised''” by the God who speaks (verse 13). The invisible became visible only through the glasses of God’s word. In a remarkable way, they saw through their ears; they looked by listening and considering “him faithful who had promised” (verse 11).

So, when we look to Jesus, we hear something God has said about his Son — and by faith, we let what God has said speak a louder word than what we see. No matter how real or powerful or alluring our circumstances may be, we look to Jesus and believe that he is more real, more powerful, and more alluring still.

And we do so, first, by looking personally.

'''Look Personally'''

When we look to Jesus, we don’t look as a college student might look at an astronomy textbook or as someone might look at faraway news: interesting, perhaps, but not relevant to my life. We look instead as a wounded man looks at first-aid instructions or a lost man looks at a map. We look as those involved in a deeply personal way.

The words “looking to Jesus” come in a context of acute personal need. Many of the believers who received the letter of Hebrews felt weary and fainthearted. In the race of faith, they had lost sight of the finish and so were beginning to stumble. Some wanted to stop running altogether.

And so, when the author tells them to look to Jesus, he does so in a way that connects ''their'' personal need to ''his'' person and work. The Jesus he tells them to look to is the one who ran the race himself “for the joy that was set before him” and who now sits at the Father’s right hand as “the founder and perfecter” of his people’s faltering faith (Hebrews 12:2). So, “look to Jesus” does not mean “think of anything at all about Jesus” but rather “think of Jesus in a way that perfectly suits your pressing need.”

“From every text of Scripture there is a road to Christ,” Spurgeon said. And from every need of our souls there is a road to Christ. Throughout Hebrews, the author ransacks the glories of Jesus and applies those parts of his character that connect most closely with his readers’ needs. For the tempted, Jesus is “a merciful and faithful high priest” (2:17); for the dull and distracted, he is “the radiance of the glory of God” (1:3); for the conscience-stricken, he is the “once for all . . . sacrifice” (9:26). And on and on we could go.

We have no problem Jesus can’t address, no riddle he can’t solve, no wound he can’t heal, no pain he can’t comfort, no sin he can’t forgive, no enemy he can’t overpower, and no longing he can’t meet fully and forever. As M‘Cheyne writes, “There is nothing that you can possibly need but you will find it in him” (''Memoir and Remains'', 304).

Often, then, the first step in looking to Jesus is naming our need. What temptation won’t leave us? What doubt won’t depart? What pressure or pain won’t relent? Whatever our need, something in Jesus is ''perfectly'' suited to bring rescue and relief.

'''Look Patiently'''

Jesus has no lack of resources to meet our every need. But given how varied, complex, and stubborn our struggles can be, tying what we ''need'' to who he is and what he’s ''done'' can take time. Looking to Jesus is more patient gaze than hasty glance.

How should a stressed and impatient mom look to Jesus? How should a young man struggling with lust? How should a Christian who clams up around unbelievers? How should ''you?'' True, some parts of Jesus’s person and work shine so clear and precious that they lend ready help to all kinds of needs. Knowing Jesus as near, faithful, strong, merciful, and oh so ready to help will take us a long way in any situation. But Hebrews has more for us.

The author of Hebrews spent untold hours poring over the Scriptures that testify to Christ. He lingered in Leviticus, puzzled over Psalms, meditated on Melchizedek, unpacked Davidic promises, and combed through the whole counsel of God to learn what he could of his Lord. If you were to ask him, “Who is Jesus?” he has more than a dozen answers. And if you were to follow with, “What has Jesus done?” he could give you at least two dozen more.

Jesus is God’s Son, the heir of all, the firstborn, and our brother. He is the founder of our salvation, the high priest of our confession, the forerunner on our behalf, and the med''Italic text''iator of a better covenant. He has become like us, spoken to us, tasted death for us, and gone ahead of us. He has suffered, learned obedience, remained faithful, and done God’s will.

Why such variety? Why such careful study? Why has our author spent more time in Leviticus than many of us have in Luke or John? Because an unclear Christ holds little power over all-too-clear sins. We can say the name of Jesus as much as we want and tell ourselves to “look to Jesus” every hour, but unless ''Jesus'' is filled with glorious, multifaceted, whole-Bible ''content'', we are like the half-blind man who looked and saw people “like trees, walking” (Mark 8:24). Could it be that a certain sin holds power over you because you know it far more clearly than you know ''him?''

Whoever we are, we could hardly do anything more practical than heed M‘Cheyne’s counsel and “learn much of the Lord Jesus.” For every bit of him benefits us — every jewel from his unsearchable riches, every line from the boundless book of his glory, every ray coming from his face that shines like the sun.

'''Look Powerfully'''

Looking to Jesus begins personally, proceeds patiently, and, when done well, ends powerfully. For the original audience of Hebrews, looking to Jesus would have led to laying aside weights and sins, and running their race without fainting (Hebrews 12:1–2). And so for us, looking to Jesus leads to practical obedience in the place of our need. We are not talking about a nice little technique that gives more peace of mind; we are talking about a practice with ''power.''

But how does that work? How does our personal, patient looking lead to powerful obedience? It does so as our sight of Christ moves from mind to heart and will. Looking to Jesus involves not just knowing but also trusting and treasuring. The sight is not just specific but sweet, not just clear but compelling. Or, as Hebrews emphasizes, we come to see and feel that Jesus is ''bigger'' than our struggles and better than our sins.

We need a ''big'' Jesus, do we not? We need one whose death destroys the devil, one whose blood speaks a better word than the blood of Abel, one who reigns and rescues by the power of an indestructible life (Hebrews 2:14; 7:16; 12:24). And we need a ''better'' Jesus, do we not? We need one who offers a better hope, a better possession, a better country, and a better life than sin ever could (Hebrews 7:19; 10:34; 11:16, 35).

The power to see Jesus as bigger and better comes not only from finding the parts of him we most need but also from lingering over them, praying over them, ''meditating'' over them. Tim Keller describes this meditative process as “thinking a truth ''out'' and then thinking a truth in until its ideas become ‘big’ and ‘sweet,’ moving and affecting, and until the reality of God is sensed upon the heart” (Prayer, 162).

Maybe all this talk of looking personally, patiently, and powerfully daunts you. Maybe looking to Jesus once sounded simple but now no longer. If so, join me in taking heart. Looking to Jesus well takes patience and practice, yes — and I myself feel like a novice. But looking to Jesus is also something we can start doing (and benefit from doing) right now, however much or little we know of him. It begins by simply naming our need, finding something specific about Jesus that meets our need, and then lingering over it long enough to feel some of its sweetness.

The longer we look, the more we’ll see — and the more convinced we’ll be that his riches really are unsearchable and his perfections are perfectly suited to meet our every need.

Do You Feel Loved by God?

Kathyyee — Tue, 18 Nov 2025 01:29:27 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "Do You Feel Loved by God?" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}

<blockquote>For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. (John 3:16)</blockquote>

Some of you reading this need to feel loved by God again. You don’t feel loved right now, at least not in your worst moments. You might know that you’re loved by God, but you struggle to ''really know'' it (and even more to feel it). Something is clouding God’s love for you — different clouds in different stories.

I want you to feel how loved you are in Christ. So let me take you to the most familiar verse in the world and show you four loves in John 3:16.

'''1. God Loves the Unlovely'''

The first love is God’s love for the unlovely. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son . . .” When you hear Jesus say that word world, what do you hear? Do you hear ''world'' and think of places like Kenya, Japan, and Brazil? Or do you hear world and think darkness, wickedness? “For God so loved ''sinners'', that he gave his only Son . . .”

The former is certainly and beautifully true — God does love and redeem men and women from all tribes, tongues, peoples, and languages (Revelation 5:9–10). But the main point in John 3:16 is that God loves ''the unlovely''. He loves sinners.

What kind of world does he love? He loves the world that despised and rejected him. “The light has come into the world, and people ''loved the darkness'' rather than the light because their works were evil” (John 3:19). We didn’t just do bad things; we ''loved'' bad things. That’s the world Jesus sought. That’s the world God loved. We were evil people — plotting evil, doing evil, savoring evil — and yet God loved us, even while we hid in the dark. God loves the unlovely.

'''2. God Loves His Own'''

Second, God loves believers. He loves his own. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, ''that whoever believes in him'' should not perish but have eternal life.” God loves believers by sparing us death — the worst death — and giving us the very best life imaginable.

How does God come to love believers, though? Does he send his Son into the world and then wait for someone to believe and therefore love? No, there’s more to this love. A few verses earlier, Jesus says to Nicodemus,

<blockquote>Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God. . . . That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not marvel that I said to you, “You must be born again.” (John 3:3, 6–7)</blockquote>

Anyone can be amazed by a man who heals blindness, turns water to wine, or reads people’s minds. Something profound, something spiritual, has to happen for someone to see those same signs and worship — or, in the words of John 3:16, to see what Jesus did and said ''and believe''. We must be born again.

And how does that happen? Jesus explains, “The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit” (John 3:8). You can’t predict, much less control, the Spirit. It’s like trying to herd the wind. No, God gives life to whomever he chooses; that’s the point. This love doesn’t wait for a response. This love goes into the darkness and brings the dead to life through a new and greater birth.

So, when I say, “God loves believers,” I don’t just mean he loves those who love him. I mean he actually gives us any love we have for him. God loves those who believe — ''everyone'' who believes — with a life-resurrecting, eyesight-restoring, love-awakening love.

'''3. God Loves His Son'''

This third love is the love on which the others hang. “For God so loved the world, ''that he gave his only Son'', that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” The sentence doesn’t make sense unless the Father really, really, really loves his Son.

This love from eternity past was so sweet, so intense, so pure, that it spilled over in a universe. God made the world to share the love he enjoys within the Godhead — Father, Son, and Spirit. This is how Jesus prays:

<blockquote>Father, I desire that they also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory that you have given me ''because you loved me before the foundation of the world''. . . . I made known to them your name, and I will continue to make it known, that ''the love with which you have loved me'' may be in them, and I in them. (John 17:24, 26)</blockquote>

God has always loved his Son and will always love his Son.

And yet to really show the height and width and depth and glory of this love, the Son had to die. If sinners were going to not perish but have eternal life, if we were going to know this love and enjoy this God, someone had to die for our sin. That someone was the Son of God, the Son we meet in Jesus — fully God (God enough to make galaxies and move mountains) and fully man (man enough to sweat and bleed and die).

God so loves his Son. And yet as much as he loved him — infinitely and immeasurably — he gave that Son, that Treasure, his very Heart, so that you could be his forever.

'''4. God Loves You'''

God loves the unlovely. God loves believers. God loves his Son. And finally, ''God loves you''.

As John relives the conversation between Jesus and Nicodemus, and as he hears Jesus say to this confused and curious Pharisee, “The Son of Man [must] be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life” (John 3:14–15), John can’t help but jump in and say, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” You can almost see him turning from Jesus and Nicodemus to us and asking, “So do you believe? Do you see? Will you turn from your sin and step under the waterfall of this love?”

If you believe, all four of these loves are yours. God gave that precious Son for you on the cross. Jesus’s body was broken for you. His blood was spilled for you. The wrath that was meant for you fell on him. What more does God have to do to prove his love for you?

Does he have to heal that sickness? Does he need to send a husband or a wife or a child? Does he need to give you that job? Hear this: God doesn’t have to answer that prayer to prove that he loves you. He doesn’t. In Jesus, he’s already proven it. Behind all the clouds that keep you from feeling loved by God, there’s a blazing, irresistible, unstoppable love — bigger and hotter than the sun. He loves you. He loves you. He really loves you.

Do You Feel Loved by God?

Kathyyee — Tue, 18 Nov 2025 01:29:03 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}} <blockquote>For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. (John 3:16)</blockquote> Some ...'

From Sinners to Sons

Kathyyee — Tue, 18 Nov 2025 01:18:39 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "From Sinners to Sons" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}'''How God Welcomes the Lost'''

<blockquote>This man receives sinners and eats with them. (Luke 15:2)</blockquote>

The Pharisees and the scribes were rather grumbly about the characters Jesus chose to eat with. If he had chosen to eat exclusively with upstanding people such as themselves, they might have praised him. But the complaint spread from one man to another in a hushed and derogatory tone: “This man receives sinners and eats with them.” As has been said, it is glorious to hear the gospel upon the lips of even God’s enemies: ''Jesus receives sinners and eats with them.''

We are indebted to these grouches, for in response, Jesus tells three parables that offer a window into the heart of God toward lost sinners. The first parable is about a shepherd losing one of his hundred sheep and leaving the ninety-nine in the open country to find it. The second concerns a woman who lost a coin and turns over the house to recover it, rejoicing when she does. The third parable tells the story of an estranged son who shames his father, squanders all his money on his lusts, and is welcomed back in his repentance with song and feast. These three parables are three petals of a heavenly flower, and that flower is called ''copia gratiae Dei'', the abundance of God’s grace.

Jesus’s point is that as a shepherd goes after his missing sheep, or as one of us will go after something precious we lost in the house, so Jesus has come to seek and save lost souls. So, yes, ''Jesus receives sinners and eats with them.''

These holier-than-thous do not need a Savior, so they complain about Jesus receiving those who do. (Oh, that such self-righteous men had more cause to moan about whom we eat with!) The mumbled criticisms of these Jonahs mad at God’s mercies clash with the music of heaven. “I tell you,” Jesus explains, “there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance” (Luke 15:7). Heaven sings about grace; the proud groan.

'''Self-Righteous Siblings'''

Jesus presses his indictment more directly in the story of the prodigal son, for the Pharisees get cast into the story. The father has two sons. The younger asks for his inheritance and proceeds to squander it in the far country on reckless living. A severe famine then arises, and the younger brother begins to be in need. He hires himself out to a most repulsive occupation for Jews — ''pig feeding''. He sinks so low that the pods the pigs eat began to look appetizing.

When he “comes to himself,” he wakes from his godless stupor, considers his father and the provisions of his father’s servants, and begins to walk home, rehearsing his apology. What he finds when he crests the horizon shocks him and us: a compassionate and overjoyed father running, hugging, kissing, gifting the best robe, a precious ring, and shoes for his feet. And then a party. Rejoicing on earth as it is in heaven — “for this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.” And they began to celebrate how the father ''receives sinners and eats with them''.

Now the camera carries us into the field to watch the elder brother. Will he celebrate? We discover him angry, refusing to go in, and scornful of his father’s solicitations to join. With two eyes still on the Pharisees, Jesus says to these elder brothers that it was fitting to be glad, for those brothers who were dead are now alive, for those lost are now found. Jesus receives sinners and eats with them — rejoice and come join the feast!

In dramatic fashion, the parable ends. His was a choose-your-own-adventure story; they decided how it would close. They chose to seethe instead of surrender. How about you?

'''Soul-Seeking Savior'''

Consider with me in closing: ''how different is our older brother''. Our humble Lord left out his part in the story. Our true elder brother — where is he?

He is in the field and watches you leave his Father. It grieves his soul to see you so reckless, so suicidal of soul. He knows that far country. He knows what awaits you — loss, temptation, poverty, death. He asks his Father what must be done. They conspire together to receive you back.

Still reeking of pig, you return. Your Father runs to you. Embraces you. Kisses and comforts you as though you had never left. You are dressed far above your deserts and led into the banquet, welcomed with laughter.

But someone is missing. “Father, where is my older brother, my dearest friend? ''I know Jesus receives sinners and eats with them.”''

“Well,” says the Father, “he has gone away. He has traveled to a far country. He saw your reckless living and squandered inheritance. Debtors came looking for you. Insulted husbands and unsavory friends pursued you. The law demanded your blood. The king was against you. You escaped justice, my son, because justice found ''him''. He was detained. Sentenced. Beaten. Condemned. He stayed behind so that you could come home.

“Like a good shepherd, he went after you. Like a woman who lost a valued coin, he searched for you. Your robe is his robe; your ring is his ring; this fattened calf is his fattened calf. He is your welcome back.

“So, where is your brother?” the Father asks amidst the banquet. With a gleam in his eye, he answers, “My Son was dead and is alive again. ''He will be here soon.”''

From Sinners to Sons

Kathyyee — Tue, 18 Nov 2025 01:18:27 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}'''How God Welcomes the Lost''' <blockquote>This man receives sinners and eats with them. (Luke 15:2)</blockquote> The Pharisees and the scribes were rather grumbly abo...'

Preachers, Perfect Your Voice

Kathyyee — Fri, 24 Oct 2025 19:14:02 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "Preachers, Perfect Your Voice" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}Pastors, many of you have spent years in training, decades studying the Bible, the original languages, and books of theology, countless hours on your knees in prayer and in your people’s homes. But how much time have you given to that instrument that brings forth our learning, our affection, our glimpses of glory, God’s very words, and in a sense our very selves? How much have we considered ''our voices?''

Sure, we consider when they are raspy from a cold or in need of water during a sermon — but do we give them any more attention? We are on a mission to disperse soul-food to the masses, but do we mind the main road we must travel on? We have bread in our carriages but holes in our streets. Too often, a halting, faltering, feeble, and monotonous delivery tips over the wagon of a good outline and solid exposition.

More than a few of us suffer from bad vocal habits that hinder our effectiveness, but how many of us can say we have done anything about those bad habits?

Some mumble. Some start sentences but don’t finish. Some preachers only bellow loudly and intensely. Others, only softly and sedately. Some paint a world with only one color. The fault is not with God’s giving — he gave us a glorious instrument, capable of many notes and sounds. Yet we sit at that grand piano and strike the few notes we are comfortable with. We have lost the tune, droning on unmusically that message which angels strain to hear.

Some, neglecting to practice, simply expect the microphone to turn on, Bibles to open, and our voices to soar or fall, build or decline, resonate or crescendo in perfect harmony with what we feel and see and have to say. This is like the Christian saxophonist who expects to get up and play flawless jazz because he has the Spirit and a saxophone and plays once a week. Is it possible that our people are not fed as well as they could be because we are not as capable as we should be?

'''What Does the Babbler Wish to Say?'''

It is no virtue to be ignorant of the voice’s secrets. Some of us suspect the pulpit deserves more than the vocal clothing we wear the rest of the week. Yet often, when the moment comes that demands more than ordinary speech, we try to dress up our sound but end up with the notorious preacher’s voice, marked by unnatural inflection and amateur drama. What a tragedy: God’s spokesman — equipped with the Spirit of God and given the glorious gospel to proclaim — known for the poor quality of his voice. ''The preacher’s voice.''

Few of us study eloquence or oratory — perhaps with good concerns. You don’t want to come across as artificial or studied. You don’t care for that professional tone where the man beneath seems polished away. You’d be embarrassed to have an awkward cadence or distracting dialect. And ultimately, you don’t want to be seduced into believing the power lies in ''how'' you speak over what you speak. You know the best oratory on earth or in heaven cannot wake the dead.

Still further, you read about Paul’s trembling speech in Corinth and his refusal to preach the gospel with “words of eloquent wisdom” — though “eloquent” is not in the original — “lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power” (1 Corinthians 1:17). You would rather never preach again than, in preaching, empty the cross of Christ of its power. So, you continue in your righteous mumbling, unctionless unclarity, or half-heard heralding because you fear the alternatives.

Whether Paul was refusing a manner of delivery or the philosophic message itself in Corinth is debated. But the point is that how we speak affects how the message is received. How we speak is not decisive, nor does the gospel’s power depend on man’s vocal skill. But this does not render the voice unimportant (just as the Spirit does not ''need'' our planning, preparation, prayer, or practice — yet we give ourselves to each).

No man should be ashamed to be a loud voice in the wilderness like John the Baptist or to be known as an “eloquent man” like Apollos (Acts 18:24) or to persuade with rhetorical skill as Paul does throughout 1 Corinthians. And most of us can give ourselves seriously to the improvement of the voice and sermon-craft without being tempted to the vanity of celebrity. Let us consider our calling — not many of us are naturally or especially well-expressed. And sitting for hours, slumped over a desk, alone and without speaking, does not help.

'''Master Your Steed'''

So, while the world rings with voices, professional and alluring, God’s men too often present vocals honed merely by (somewhat) regular use. We can imagine ourselves as blissful amateurs, uncorrupted by heathen tricks of the trade, and stand half as tall in the pulpit as we might. We need to heed the call of the Prince of Preachers:

<blockquote>We are bound to use every possible means to perfect the voice by which we are to tell forth the glorious gospel of the blessed God. Take great care of the consonants, enunciate every one of them clearly; they are the features and expression of the words. Practice indefatigably till you give every one of the consonants its due; the vowels have a voice of their own, and therefore they can speak for themselves. In all other matters exercise a rigid discipline until you have mastered your voice, and have it in hand like a well-trained steed. (''Lectures to My Students'', 110)</blockquote>

“In hand like a well-trained steed” — is this your voice? A “rigid discipline” to master your instrument — is this your practice? Or is the following observation more often accurate?

<blockquote>The greater part of preachers are slaves to their voice; it controls them instead of them controlling it. The voice possesses wonderful capabilities, but it is a rebellious instrument. (Adolphe Monod, quoted in William Blaikie’s ''For the Work of the Ministry'', 155)</blockquote>

While the voice is not everything in our work, neither is it nothing. It holds great consequence for many. Our goal is to train the voice in its work — to add some thunder to its steps, some brilliance to its colors, some reliability to its service, so that you can forget about its sound and welcome all into the vision of ''Christ crucified and risen from the dead''.

The goal — unapologetically — is ''excellence''. He who sets out to be meager achieves it, but he who aims at excellence will at least be better than he started. Too much is at stake for us to remain stagnant. Heralds of the king are not men who speak more slovenly, weakly, and flatly than the men who hear them. We are jars of clay into which great treasure has been entrusted — but oh, that our voices would be tuned to bring out that gold. To do this, we must unlearn bad habits, develop good disciplines, and prayerfully experiment — to the glory of God and the good of his church.

'''O Voice, Where Art Thou?'''

Brothers, we are called to immerse ourselves in such things, to practice that all may see our progress (1 Timothy 4:15). And so, we give attention to our delivery, especially to our voices. It takes work to speak as God created us to speak. Your natural voice is likely unnatural to you now. Some of our lawns have more weeds than grass.

Yet the aim is to speak like ''you'' — not like Chrysostom, Whitefield, Spurgeon, or your favorite preacher, though we learn from them. God made you to sound like you. The aim is to uncover what has been buried, rediscover what has been lost — a certain sound, a quality, a range, a flash and a flame that has been dulled and domesticated by carelessness, thoughtlessness, and want of knowledge and practice. Some of us need to start again with the basics. Lawyers, politicians, celebrities, actors, podcasters, YouTubers all train to improve their voices — ''why not those who speak the very oracles of God?
''

Preachers, Perfect Your Voice

Kathyyee — Fri, 24 Oct 2025 19:13:49 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}Pastors, many of you have spent years in training, decades studying the Bible, the original languages, and books of theology, countless hours on your knees in prayer and ...'