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Six Common Myths About Missions

Kathyyee — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 14:18:23 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}Evangelical Christians are committed to spreading the good news of Jesus Christ to the ends of the earth. It is our mandate. For two thousand years, Christians have imper...'

{{info}}Evangelical Christians are committed to spreading the good news of Jesus Christ to the ends of the earth. It is our mandate. For two thousand years, Christians have imperfectly crossed cultures to bring this good news, and today there are believers from more languages and peoples than ever before.

Yet as always, Satan lurks in the shadows, plotting against the Spirit’s work and lashing out “because he knows that his time is short” (Revelation 12:12). He has already lost, but his disinformation continues, and sometimes we get caught believing lies about God’s mission to all nations. It is hard work to sift through what the Spirit is really doing in the world: myths persist, and many believe them. The way out is to shed light on some of the most common myths Christians today believe.

'''We Experience Calling Alone'''

Interpreting God’s calling on our lives is hard. I’ve read my journal from when I first became a Christian and, wow, I had no idea what I was talking about. I’ve needed the church again and again to help me interpret God’s word and his call on my life. You do too, regardless of your vocation. Being a missionary is difficult work, and none of us should be left to figure it out on our own. There is a reason the New Testament letters focus so much time on the community of faith. We easily mistake our personal abilities and callings, and head out believing we are doing God’s work. We tend to think the best about ourselves.

Consider, however, the church of Antioch, who sent Barnabas and Saul, already proven leaders, and confirmed their missionary call by laying hands on them (Acts 13:1–3). The church should send missionaries out “in a manner worthy of God” (3 John 6), which includes confirming our call and preparing us to go. Having great preparation and confirmation doesn’t mean everything will go smoothly, but it does set us up for success over the long term.

'''Missions Reporting Must Be Positive'''

I don’t think many are purposefully lying. The pressure is real: Will people give to me or my organization if it seems we are ineffective? Expectations fueled by snippets from the lives of our missionary heroes have fed the temptation to think that missions reporting must always be positive. There are problems at institutional and personal levels.

At the institutional level, research and reporting can give the impression of victory after victory. “Hundreds of churches were planted.” “We led thousands of people to Christ on the organization’s short-term mission trip.” And then these stories get perpetuated. But those on the ground are often discouraged when they hear these reports, which are typically created by people who do not understand what they are experiencing. My friend once read the newsletter of his own mission organization and, to his surprise, he had led multiple people to Christ!

At the personal level, missionaries can feel pressure to produce positive reports — or, if they do say something negative, to relate it to persecution. Our social-media personas are selective, and sometimes we are surprised to learn what people think of us who know us only by what we post. The same is true in missionary reporting. As an exercise, live this week as you normally would, and then try to turn it into a missionary support letter. Think about what you would emphasize and what you would leave out. You might begin to appreciate the pressure missionaries feel.

'''Everyone Is Doing Missions Wrong'''

Many missionaries can indulge a critical spirit, a spirit I also fall into on occasion. We need to take great care about how strongly we criticize practitioners who are trying to stay afloat in hard ministry locations. What team wants to hear from a guy in the U.S. that the way they are doing ministry is wrong?

Of course, we should hold up the Bible as the lens to understand how people are approaching the mission, and we should not shy away from trying to bring reformation to mission practices. But before we do, let’s consider Paul, who rejoiced simply because “Christ is proclaimed,” despite poor motives (Philippians 1:18). Let’s consider how much we know about places far away, and then tread carefully as we push back. It’s easy to criticize from afar.

'''Missionaries Are Super Christians'''

When we talk about missions, we tend to talk about heroes. These heroes typically look like us and have forsaken what we have for a different life. But as we read more realistic biographies, we find all kinds of idiosyncrasies and bewildering behavior.

Missionaries are sinners saved by grace (Ephesians 2:8). ''Every'' problem that occurs in your local church occurs on the mission field. Even if missionaries are trained, are willing to go, and have suffered hardship, these dear brothers and sisters struggle and are often lonely and overwhelmed. They sometimes yell at their children. Marriages are challenging. Relationships with other missionaries can be strained. These realities should surprise no one. If we are going to treasure the gospel, part of that treasuring involves not being surprised by human sinfulness.

This truth can be an encouragement if you feel you will never measure up to the standard you have inflicted on yourself. It can also be a call for churches not to forget the real needs of those they have sent out.

'''The Farther You Go, the More Committed You’ll Be'''

Some aspiring missionaries think that if you travel for a purpose to a faraway place, you will be more committed to Jesus than if you stayed near home. At its worst, this impulse essentially treats missions as a self-discovery project, and the farther away you get from home, the more focused you will find yourself. But the reality is that your sin nature and weaknesses will not stay behind when you board a plane. They will be there when you land, and more exposed than ever before.

When I take my kids fishing, they instinctively want to cast as far as possible. They assume the bigger and better fish are the farthest away from them at any given point. The same is true for many people in ministry. But the reality is that the people next door may be just as alienated from God as the people at the uttermost parts of the world. We would be wise to do evangelism now in our own contexts before we go to the ends of the earth (Luke 16:10).

'''Missionaries Are Excited to ‘Come Home’'''

Missionaries “come home” for furloughs or forever. We can imagine that missionaries will love the chance to be near family and old friends again. But for many, home assignments are mostly stressful.

Imagine that you have a young family and have been gone for five years. You have just made friends and adjusted to the culture, and your kids are in a school routine. And then you pull out for six to twelve months in order to live on the road. I recently heard a missionary say that he felt most distant from Christ during home assignments because of how numbing day-to-day life was for him in the United States. Sending churches would be wise to consider carefully the expectations they want to place on people who may be relieved to return to their place of ministry when furlough is over.

The problem can feel more acute, however, when missionaries return permanently (for whatever reason). They commonly hear, “Aren’t you glad to be home?” and the answer is rarely a resounding “Yes!”

Of course, there is a lot to love about being closer to family, but there are more significant reasons why it is hard. Some missionaries find themselves facing reverse culture shock, unable to navigate the culture they grew up in. Friends and family have changed in the time they have been gone. Kids are not happy to leave their friends “back home.” Relationships don’t make sense, and work doesn’t feel as meaningful.

A friend who used to be a missionary in Uganda once said to me, “In Uganda I was in charge of multimillion dollar projects and led many people to Christ, but now that I am back in the U.S., I have to ask permission whether I can put napkins on the table at a men’s prayer breakfast.” Returning is often painful, disorienting, and numbing.

'''Missions Without Myths'''

We have been given a mandate that cannot be ignored. We are to send or go. But we also are to be aware of how myths shape our worship and practice. Our attitudes can be misinformed. Our actions can be immature.

Exposing these myths is not intended to put a damper on a passion for the nations, or quench a desire to go out for the sake of the name, or cause you to be hesitant to obey Jesus. It’s about seeing the world as it is in order to better serve God’s global people that he is calling to himself.

Your Soul Needs Better News

Kathyyee — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 14:11:26 GMT

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{{info}}'''Three Stories of the Gospel’s Advance'''

Acts 15 records the most important meeting in the New Testament. The debate strikes at the heart of the gospel. Paul and Barnabas are brought into sharp dispute with those who want to add to the salvation Christ has purchased, and so the church in Antioch appoints them to go to Jerusalem and hash things out.

The distance between Antioch and Jerusalem is about 350 miles. It’s probably not a route marked in the back of your Bible as a “missionary journey.” Nevertheless, Luke intentionally includes this stretch of travel in the book of Acts. And instead of simply writing, “They went up to Jerusalem,” he highlights a revealing detail: Along the way, Paul and Barnabas share stories of God’s work among the Gentiles to strengthen other believers (Acts 15:2–3). They don’t use the time to criticize or stir up division; they lift the church’s eyes by testifying to God’s grace.

Over the years, I’ve tried to do the same — to make believers glad by opening their eyes to the wonder and reality that God is doing a million things in the world, and we probably know five of them (and misinterpret four).

We’re so easily discouraged by the news. And sometimes we’re even discouraged by other Christians. Our busy lives narrow our focus to the day in front of us. (As it turns out, it does have enough trouble of its own!)

But God is at work around the world in ways we can scarcely imagine. So, let me encourage you and make you glad by sharing three stories of God’s grace.

'''Three Hundred Missionaries'''

In 1978, the Kachin Baptist Convention launched a remarkable missionary effort, recruiting three hundred men and women to carry the gospel into hard places. They trained for forty days and then were sent out in teams for a three-year commitment.

I first heard about this movement while standing in front of a statue built to commemorate their work. The base of the statue is covered with the names of all three hundred missionaries. As I read the names, one of those very missionaries, Hkalam Samson, stood beside me, quietly telling me his stories.

Samson — who has himself been imprisoned on false charges of terrorism, unlawful association, and inciting opposition — pointed to a name etched in the stone and said, almost offhandedly, “Do you see that name right there? That man was raised from the dead after being stoned. You can go visit him if you’d like.”

I stared at him, stunned.

And yet — incredible as that claim is — the heart of the story isn’t the miracle. The heart of the story is that the gospel was preached and people were changed. Through the work of those missionaries, it’s believed that as many as 6,200 new believers were baptized in a single day — what may have been one of the largest baptismal services in the history of the church.

Be glad. God is at work.

'''Indigenous Bible Translation'''

In 1999, Wycliffe Bible Translators and SIL International recognized that, at the then-current pace of Bible translation, it would take until the year 2150 for every people group on earth to have God’s word in their own language. That may seem disheartening, but it’s not the end of the story.

Rather than relying solely on foreign workers, local churches around the world have increasingly taken up the work of translation themselves. For example, the FJKM Church in Madagascar mobilized three hundred volunteers to translate the Bible from the national Malagasy language into a range of local languages. Through this grassroots effort, four New Testament translations were completed in just five years — and four more are on the way.

Did you know there has been a 70 percent increase in indigenous translators around the world?

Be glad. God is at work.

'''Beating Drums and Demons'''

My friend’s father (let’s call him John) told me stories of how he would travel from village to village with a drum, beating it to draw a crowd. He would then preach the gospel to anyone who gathered.

In one village, two demon-possessed women began speaking out as he arrived, discussing aloud whether they should leave because, as they put it, “Jesus is here.” Before long, the village leaders came and demanded that John leave. They wanted the ancestral spirits to remain in the village. Those two women, in particular, were a source of income for the community.

John refused to back down. He cast out the demons, preached the gospel, and both women came to faith in Christ.

Be glad. God is at work.

'''Stoke Your Fire for God’s Global Work'''

Most of us don’t naturally stumble across stories like these. They don’t tend to trend. The algorithm isn’t optimized for them. But they are out there — in abundance — for those willing to look. Here are a few places to start.

Read missionary biographies. The church has a long memory, and much of it is stunning. Books like Elisabeth Elliot’s ''Through Gates of Splendor'', Don Richardson’s ''Peace Child'', Brother Andrew’s ''God’s Smuggler'', John Piper’s ''27 Servants of Sovereign Joy'', or Ruth A. Tucker’s ''From Jerusalem to Irian Jaya'' are not just history — they are testimonies to the same Jesus who is still at work today.

You can also read books that chronicle the advance of the gospel today. I recently wrote a book, ''Witness'', to connect the story of Acts with the work God is doing right now. Tim Keesee’s ''A Company of Heroes'' or ''Dispatches from the Front'' bring to light new stories of missionaries serving in some of the world’s hardest places. Books like these are an on-ramp for anyone who wants to see the global church with fresh eyes, to be stirred rather than just informed.

Watch films that document the work of God in the nations. I played a part in creating ''Jesus in Athens'', a documentary chronicling the powerful ways Jesus has worked among immigrants in Greece. Frontline Missions’s series ''Dispatches from the Front'' also shows some of God’s amazing work in the far reaches of the world. These and others are available for free on streaming services.

Subscribe to missionary newsletters. Most missionaries send regular updates — honest accounts of struggle and breakthrough, of slow years and sudden harvests. Ask your church leaders for a list of supported workers, and get on their mailing lists. You will be surprised how quickly the world grows when someone you know and pray for is living among another people group for the gospel’s sake.

'''Let Your Heart Be Glad'''

Whether through these or some other means, take time to be freshly convinced that Jesus is alive and at work. Don’t let news headlines have the final word. Seek out stories of God’s grace. Testify to his work among the nations.

Like Paul and Barnabas, be glad and bring others into your joy.

Your Soul Needs Better News

Kathyyee — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 14:11:01 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}'''Three Stories of the Gospel’s Advance''' Acts 15 records the most important meeting in the New Testament. The debate strikes at the heart of the gospel. Paul and Ba...'

Take the First Steps Toward Deep Friendship

Kathyyee — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 13:58:27 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "Take the First Steps Toward Deep Friendship" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}“What should we read next?” I asked. My friend and I had just finished several months in the Sermon on the Mount, and it was time to plan our next Bible reading project.

She didn’t miss a beat. “Let’s do Ezekiel! I’ve been thinking about him lately.”

I groaned inwardly but didn’t question her choice. After all, if you’re 95 years old and willing to take on Ezekiel for your devotional reading, who am I to argue?

My friend and I have been reading Scripture together for over 25 years. When we started, I was an angsty thirty-something-year-old mother of four sons. Our women’s ministry was encouraging us to read through the New Testament together in a year, and we accepted the challenge. In long phone conversations, we discussed what we were learning and how the Spirit of God was using the sacred text to put his finger on areas of disobedience or compromise in our walk with him.

When the year was up, one of us suggested that we try to read through the whole Bible together. The next year, we started experimenting with deeper dives at a slower pace, so it was my job to create our reading schedule. We’d do a panoramic read of the entire book (if it was short enough) and then slowly consider each chapter, reading and rereading, sometimes choosing a section to memorize together until we had worked our slow way through the book.

By the time we finished Ezekiel, my friend had turned 96, and I’m almost eligible for Medicare.

We were still reading together, and we were still friends when she passed away this winter.

'''Obstacles to Spiritual Friendship'''

Sadly, a long-haul friendship like ours is unusual. Very few friendships stand the test of time. Geographical challenges are daunting. Differences of opinion divide. The constant upheaval of schedules and the ever-present ticking of the clock have made friendship seem like a luxury we can’t afford or something we’ll make time for later.

Loneliness is the fruit of lives that are scheduled to the point of strangulation. Add to that the effects of social media, tricking us into believing we’re connecting with “our people” when we affirm their vacation photos with a click and comment on the video of their new puppy. We know more about our Instagram friends than we do about our next-door neighbors, and we often find ourselves weighed down by comparison and competition with their seemingly perfect images.

In-person friendship involves a risky level of vulnerability and humility. We’ve all experienced the disappointment of a friendship that started with a glimmer of hope — but then differences arose and the whole thing unraveled.

Twentieth-century novelist Wallace Stegner wrote that friendship is “held together by neither law nor property nor blood. There is no glue in it but mutual liking. It is therefore rare” (''Crossing to Safety'', 96). In a spiritual friendship, the stronger “glue” is a faith-shaping commitment to truth.

While the current of many other friendships has ebbed and flowed with the ages and stages of our children or our presence on a certain committee or project, spiritual friendship forms an enduring connection centered on enduring truth. Only in the past year, I learned that my friend (stalwart Sunday school teacher, deacon’s wife, and lifelong church lady) didn’t have a settled practice of digging into Scripture until we started reading together! She needed the accountability of a spiritual friendship.

'''Rewards of Spiritual Friendship'''

Spiritual friendship pushes back against cultural obstacles and embodies the beautiful truth of Romans 15:7: “Welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.” We were never designed to navigate life on our own, as evidenced by all the plural pronouns embedded in many New Testament commands. Spirit-empowered hospitality extends the welcome of the gospel in which Christ is our host.

If we commit to being honest about our relationship with God and what he’s teaching us whenever we meet over the words of Scripture, that time of processing together begins to bind hearts with cords of mutual understanding, shared struggle, and the gift of intercessory prayer. When differences arise and sin tendencies are exposed, it’s important to lean in instead of running away. For those brave enough to admit to all the ways they are falling short, the prayers of a trusted friend are a supportive splint.

There are definitely benefits to having a friend of the same age — a fellow wayfarer in life, whether you are sharing potty-training war stories or bemoaning perimenopause and an empty nest. However, we must not overlook the benefits of an age gap. I have been blessed to share my family with my dear friend, and she has shared the gift of her lived experience with me. Someone who remembers post-World War II rationing was well-equipped to take a long view of whatever cultural chaos or alarming news story I was worried about. A woman who weathered the disappointment of infertility during an era when “such things” were not discussed in polite conversation had valuable insights to offer a young mother who was on her last nerve with a fractious toddler. A Christ-centered friendship provides another set of eyes and a fresh perspective on our circumstances, if we’re willing to open our lives to it.

'''Making Room for Friendship'''

Spiritual friendship is important because God created us for community. New Testament believers would be horrified at present-day attempts to privatize our faith and live the Christian life by ourselves. Tim Keller wrote, “Community works the gospel out into the corners of our lives.” Alongside a close friend, we remember that sanctification is a slow walk, that forgiveness is really possible, and that grace is the only thing that will lubricate relational gears. Enduring friendship requires more than a theoretical gospel.

Friendship calls for creativity and realistic expectations. Time together for my friend and me was scarce and precious. I was raising and homeschooling four sons while she and her husband traveled frequently in their retirement years. Journaled notes and our Bibles accompanied us to picnic tables and playgrounds. But even there, our faith was being shaped by the strong words of Scripture.

I’m grateful for a friendship that has withstood the Proverbs 17:17 test: “A friend loves at all times,” faithful throughout our changing seasons. Several years ago, my friend moved to a retirement community in another state, which further reduced our face-to-face time. We saw each other only twice a year, and until her death, I sent our reading schedules to her via email. Friendships change over time because people change. In spiritual friendship, however, we find enduring common ground in Christ. We extend the welcome and press into truth together.

Take the First Steps Toward Deep Friendship

Kathyyee — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 13:57:12 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}“What should we read next?” I asked. My friend and I had just finished several months in the Sermon on the Mount, and it was time to plan our next Bible reading proje...'

Jesus Raged?

Kathyyee — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 13:47:38 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "Jesus Raged?" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}'''The Righteous Anger of God Incarnate'''

Have you been caught off guard by the anger of Jesus?

There you are, peacefully meditating on the Gospels, or flourishing under a favorite preacher. With great comfort, you’re finding Christ to be master of every situation. He wields concrete images, asks perceptive questions, and seems unfazed by conniving opponents.

Then flashes some surprising flare of his holy anger. He makes a whip and clears the temple court. He sighs aloud in frustration. He is reported to be annoyed, even indignant. He “strictly charges” men and women he has just healed. And you recall how often he ''rebukes'', not just demons and fevers, winds and waves, but also his own disciples.

'''Sweet (and Sovereign) Emotion'''

We might shy away from the English word rage, but just a century ago the eminent B.B. Warfield (1851–1921) thought it a fitting term in his study on ''The Emotional Life of Our Lord''. Perhaps the word’s connotations have shifted enough today that we reach for other language, but it could do us some good to see what many faithful eyes have dared to see in the life of Christ. And if anyone could ''rage'' with a holy, God-honoring anger, would it not be Jesus?

Sinless as he was, Jesus had his manifestly emotional moments as he dwelt among us. Doubtless, he was a man of composure and self-control, but it would be strange to presume he was unemotional when he whipped the temple clean. Or when he wept at Lazarus’s tomb. Or when he prayed, in anguish, with loud cries and tears. Typically, the Christ we encounter in the Gospels is a man of stunning composure — a model of the kind of poise and equanimity, in the face of the world’s chaos, that his people want to grow in by the power of his Spirit. And we may learn, as well, from his holy anger. Even his ''rage.''

'''Slow to Anger'''

The children of Israel had celebrated their covenant-keeping God as ''“slow to anger”'' (beginning in Exodus 34:6). Slow to anger, let the record show, does not mean ''without anger''. God clearly stood ready to punish the guilty in time. Yet, given the rebellion of his people, which was often outrageous, he was remarkably patient and markedly “slow to anger,” as prophets and psalmists alike would cherish (Nehemiah 9:17; Joel 2:13; Psalms 86:15; 103:8; 145:8).

So too Jesus, in the days of his flesh, was slow to anger. He knew how to keep his wits under pressure, when the moment required it, and he knew how to give vent to his emotions, with self-control, in the proper time and place. Typically, the Christ of the Gospels is conspicuously calm, unprovoked in the face of worked-up foes. Yet the divine Son entered a world of sin and sinners, under the curse — a world in which injustices abound. And it would not be virtue, but vice, as Warfield observes, “for a moral being to stand in the presence of perceived wrong indifferent and unmoved” (50).

Lest we feed a wrong impression, let’s draw on two quintessential Reformed voices for help. If you thought Reformed theology’s appreciation of the mind necessitated the diminishing of emotion, let Warfield, along with John Calvin himself (1509–1564), set the record straight. Sure, some may have skewed anti-emotional in the name of Reformed theology. But they are mistaken. We can hardly find voices more reasonably Reformed than Calvin’s and Warfield’s.

To do so, let’s address several key anger-revealing texts in the Gospels and consider what lessons we might draw as Christ’s disciples today.

'''1. Jesus experienced our anger.'''

Jesus, truly man and truly God, was capable of human anger, and this was (and is) a feature, not a bug. This human emotion is an analogue of divine wrath in the image-bearer. As such, it is good, a God-made gift, to help us in a world where we encounter sin, death, and injustice. Yes, indwelling sin corrupts our anger, and anger is especially dangerous because it is such a powerful emotion, by God’s design. But anger itself is not the problem. Our sin is the problem.

In the Gospel of John, the first flare comes as early as chapter 2. Jesus is manifestly angry at those who have made his Father’s house into a house of ''trade'', for material profit rather than Godward ''prayer''. Yet the attribute celebrated here is not called anger but zeal. His disciples remember that it was written (in Psalm 69), “''Zeal'' for your house will consume me” (John 2:17).

Anger rises naturally, even if slowly, in healthy souls. We need not cultivate anger. It comes as a function of some greater love. What we want to cultivate is ''zeal'', for God and his honor, and for others and their joy in God. Christians want to boil with holy affection for Jesus Christ (Romans 12:11). And as God’s word and his people and prayer feed and form our zeal, our anger will flare less at the wrong times, and more at the right times.

We do not typically use the word ''anger'' for this more constructive emotion we call ''zeal''. Zeal is the white-hot flame of Jesus’s love for his Father, and so for his Father’s house. ''Anger'' is our term for the zealous response toward those who are treating his Father and his house with contempt.

'''2. Jesus’s anger was without sin.'''

The life of Christ shows us the possibility of holy, righteous, good anger, even on this side of the fall. Jesus felt anger that was an appropriate response to the sin and evil and injustice he encountered. He also felt anger at appropriate levels of intensity — not too little, not too much, not too frequently or too quickly, and not too slowly or infrequently.

Even as we observe our remarkable solidarity with the Son of God in his sharing in our humanity, we keep in mind that great qualifier “yet without sin” (Hebrews 4:15). What might it be like to experience the God-given emotion of anger, but without the corruption of sin?

Calvin guards us against any naive attempt to imitate Jesus’s anger without owning up to our own weakness: “If you compare his passions with ours, they will differ not less than pure and clear water, flowing in a gentle course, differs from dirty and muddy foam.” Our anger is not pure and clear like his. If I’ve never done a righteous deed that wasn’t sullied in some small way, surely the same is true with my anger. Yet that should not keep me from doing righteous deeds or from listening to the God-designed emotion of anger, no matter how prone such a power is to the influence of indwelling sin. Every thought, every feeling, every act of sinful humans in this age is sin-infected in some sense, but this does not keep us from doing real good works, pursuing good thoughts, and feeling good, helpful emotions.

Jesus’s pure, clear anger is a summons to us to cultivate Christlike zeal. His emotions encourage ours, and even enjoin them. As Calvin adds, Jesus’s life “ought to be sufficient of itself for setting aside the unbending sternness which the Stoics demand.”

'''3. Jesus made use of his anger; then he put it away.'''

Jesus didn’t stuff his anger, and on several occasions in the Gospels, he allowed his anger to become observable. He was noticeably angry. And he made use of that anger: He took its prompting, and energy, to move into justice-remedying action.

But, note well, Jesus did not stew in it. The key moment is Mark 3:1–5. On a Sabbath, he encounters a man with a withered hand. The Pharisees look on, ready to accuse him of Sabbath-breaking. Jesus asks them, “Is it lawful on the Sabbath to do good or to do harm, to save life or to kill?” He’s right, and they won’t admit it. They remain silent, with an evil, cowardly silence. Then verse 5:

<blockquote>And [Jesus] looked around at them with anger, grieved at their hardness of heart, and said to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” He stretched it out, and his hand was restored.</blockquote>

Mark tells us Jesus is angry and looks at them with anger. And as we’ll see again in John 11, this holy anger coexists with sorrow. Their hardness of heart both grieves and angers him. But his anger, having come slowly, does its work quickly. It flashes, and he perceives it, is inspired to righteous action, and then puts it away in holiness. It was brief, and then, not suppressed or forgotten, it prompted his next (anger-less) action: to heal. (We find similar examples of brief anger or frustration leading to a fitting response in Mark 7:34; 8:12; 10:14.)

As Paul would charge the Ephesians, so had he heard from the life of Jesus: “Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger” (Ephesians 4:26). Perceive the powerful burst, but let it not move you into sin but inspire righteousness. Which leads to a fourth and final lesson.

'''4. Jesus wept and raged.'''

John 11 is famous for “Jesus wept,” for good reason. But the more surprising revelation there is his anger. And it’s not subtle. Uncomfortable translators have tried to take the edge off it, but John is even clearer about Jesus’s anger than he is about his sorrows. Tears we might expect; anger we do not.

In John 11:33, we find a holy soul in holy anger. Jesus doesn’t lash out. He doesn’t bash anyone or say something he will later regret. Tears flow alongside his anger and so offer a revelation about both grief and anger (as we glimpsed in Mark 3:5): Godly anger goes with tears, and tears can flow with anger.

Don Carson emphasizes Jesus’s anger, alongside his grief, in John 11. The word translated “deeply moved” in verses 33 and 38 (Greek ''embrimaomai'') “invariably suggests anger, outrage or emotional indignation” (John, 415). And he insists,

<blockquote>The same sin and death, the same unbelief, that prompted [Jesus’s] outrage, also generated his grief. Those who follow Jesus as his disciples today do well to learn the same tension — that grief and compassion without outrage reduce to mere sentiment, while outrage without grief hardens into self-righteous arrogance and irascibility. (416)</blockquote>

This is a double lesson for us wonderfully emotional and tragically sinful humans. We are not whole if we experience no anger — or only anger. Some need to cultivate the love for fellow man (and God) that leads to holy grief; others need to cultivate the zeal for God (and man) that leads to holy anger. As Warfield captures it,

<blockquote>He who loves men must needs hate with a burning hatred all that does wrong to human beings. . . . Jesus never wavered in his consistent resentment of the special wrongdoing that he was called to witness. (75)</blockquote>

So, with Christ as our one mediator and perfect model, we seek to see our spirit increasingly come under the control of his Spirit.

'''See the Flash of His Love'''

Jesus indeed knows the experience of human anger. And we do not yet know the experience of sinlessness. As we watch his righteous anger, and learn the features of our own humanity in looking to him, we do proceed with caution, recognizing the distinctive ''power'' of anger, and knowing ourselves to be sinners across all our faculties.

And whether you call it ''rage'' or not, see that the root is ''love''. The righteous anger of Christ is a function of his holy zeal — for his Father, his word, his holiness, and his people. For those who are safe in Christ, these flares of his holy anger are full of gospel wonder. He is righteous, and righteously angry with his enemies, because of his great love for his Father and his friends.

Jesus Raged?

Kathyyee — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 13:47:24 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}'''The Righteous Anger of God Incarnate''' Have you been caught off guard by the anger of Jesus? There you are, peacefully meditating on the Gospels, or flourishing und...'

Take That Risk for Jesus

Kathyyee — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 02:14:25 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "Take That Risk for Jesus" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}When was the last time you felt an impulse to do something fresh and daring for Jesus, but then you glanced around, thought how strange you might look, and let the desire die?

Sometimes the tug is relatively small: Kneel in corporate worship. Ask a deep question in a superficial conversation. Stop and talk to a stranger.

Other times, you may feel stirred to something bolder: Start a Bible study on your block. Foster a few children. Gather some brothers and try street preaching.

You feel prodded, moved. The impulse begins to feel like a matter of obedience. You come right to the cusp of action. But then you look around and see no one else you know following Jesus like that. And so you don’t either.

I know the feeling. And I wonder if Jesus would tell you and me in these moments what he once told Peter: “What is that to you? You follow me!” (John 21:22). ''You follow me'': Take the gifts he’s given you, the opportunities in front of you, the burdens placed upon you, and don’t worry so much about what others are doing or what others might think. Instead, fix your eyes on Jesus and follow him as faithfully as you can.

'''‘You Follow Me’'''

Those three simple words — “You follow me” — remind us that Christians are both remarkably similar to one another and also strikingly different.

“You follow ''me'',” Jesus says to us all. We fix our eyes on the same Jesus, the same Lord, who is conforming us into the same image (Romans 8:29). Whoever we are, wherever we come from, we all want to be as much like him as we can.

But when Jesus says, “''You'' follow me,” he really means you — you with your distinct personality, your unique background, your particular gifts, your specific ambitions, your precise circumstances. The call comes to fathers and mothers, singles and spouses, teachers and engineers and artists, the church-raised and the world-raised, with all the fantastic variety that the image of God can hold.

Because Jesus calls us to follow ''him'', we can learn a great deal from those farther along the journey; we ought to imitate those who imitate Christ (1 Corinthians 11:1). But because Jesus calls us to follow him, our following will sometimes depart from that of others and may even look strange to some of them. Peter will not go everywhere John goes; John will not do everything Peter does. The eye and the ear both have their place.

In healthy churches, Christians learn much from each other but keep their first and best focus on Jesus himself. They remember that Jesus may bid them to go where others aren’t going, say what others aren’t saying, try what others aren’t trying. They still lean on their community to discern the wisdom of their way, but they keep their eyes locked on the one who often leads his people in different directions. They stay open to surprises.

And when, like Peter, their focus subtly shifts from Christ to his people, and they ask, “Lord, what about this man?” Jesus snaps their gaze back to him: “What is that to you? You follow me!” (John 21:21–22).

'''Blandly Predictable'''

Now, Peter’s situation was not exactly like ours. He did not hesitate to obey because he feared the opinion of others (so far as we can tell). But he did look at the path Jesus laid out for him — pastoring followed by martyrdom (John 21:15–19) — and immediately turned from Jesus to John. ''What about him?'' He waited to walk until he knew how his calling compared to his brother’s. Jesus’s response gives us an enduring principle: Let your obedience be defined by the Lord before you, not the disciples beside you.

Some Christians, of course, need little encouragement to depart from the crowd. They already shout, “Amen!” when no one else does and readily strike out on their own. They are John the Baptist’s spiritual children, conspicuous as a camel’s-hair coat. If anything, they would do well to get more advice before acting.

Many more of us, probably, stand on the other side of the river. We blend in too well. We wear various shades of beige from day to day. We follow Jesus only as we see others doing, only in ways that won’t turn heads. We have become blandly, un-Christianly predictable.

Those who hear and heed “You follow me” will, over time, take fresh risks and launch new ventures, whatever their personality. Paul and Barnabas will set sail for new lands. Mark will write the first Gospel. Pastors will plant churches in hard places. The naturally timid will speak brave words. The natively brash will minister to the disabled.

But such adventurous obedience will happen only if “You follow me” holds more weight than what others are doing or what others may think. How many beautiful ideas do we discard too soon because they seem too bold? How many times does a good work die because we look too long at the people around us and too little at the Lord ahead of us? How often have we let the opinions of unbelievers, or even other Christians, steal the salt from our lives?

I’m not suggesting that you start judging your brothers and sisters as disobedient while you embark on the ''real'' Christian life. Just because you adopt a child or do door-to-door evangelism doesn’t mean they should. They may be following Jesus exactly as he wants them to. I’m only suggesting that you not let their good works set the boundaries for your own. What if he wants you to do something new in your community?

'''Follow the Stories'''

What a sad story church history would tell if God’s people had always limited their obedience to what they could see. Paul would have kept silent in the face of Peter’s hypocrisy. The gospel would have stayed with the Jews. Augustine would have never written his ''Confessions''. Luther would have remained a monk. Wilberforce would have let slavery slide. Whitefield and the Wesleys would have used only their indoor voice.

And what a sad story ''our own lives'' would tell. What if the person who shared Jesus with you had not listened when he told them, “You follow me”? What if those who sharpen you most stayed quiet instead of reproving, correcting, pursuing? The brothers and sisters we so admire, the ones who speak and evangelize and sing and pray in ways that jostle and stir us and make us yearn to be Christlike — aren’t they the ones who hear “You follow me” and obey?

So too with our own history of obedience. Haven’t many of our soul’s best moments come on the far side of risk? We dreaded the thought of some hard conversation — but then we spoke, and what good came! We counted the cost and joined a church plant anyway — and how glad we are that we did! Even when our attempts to boldly follow land us flat on our faces, aren’t we often still thankful for how God shapes us in the falling? Better to sink walking on waves than stay seated in the boat.

'''Following in the First Step'''

If following Jesus so freely, so gallantly, feels unnatural to you (as it does to me), remember that you already have followed him in this way. All our daily following is, in one sense, a continuation of the first step we took.

Do you remember what happened when Jesus first called you? There you were, maybe in high school or college, perhaps a young parent or an empty nester. You lived among the crowd. But then you heard the voice of Jesus in his word saying, “Follow me.”

Looking up, you probably saw some people you knew following him, but you saw many more — family, friends, classmates, neighbors, coworkers — not following. You were a Nicodemus among Pharisees, a seeker surrounded by unbelief. But you couldn’t shake the voice you heard. His call was too alluring, his glory too compelling. So you looked at the crowd again and said, “What is that to me? I’m following him.”

Today, you often find yourself in the company of those who also follow him. But even now, the Lord who called you by name still holds your first allegiance. At times, he will lead you to say things, do things, risk things that surprise even the Christians around you.

But even if you find yourself out of step for a moment with your brothers and sisters, you will not be out of step with your Lord. For wherever he calls you to follow him, ''there he is.''

Take That Risk for Jesus

Kathyyee — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 02:14:09 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}When was the last time you felt an impulse to do something fresh and daring for Jesus, but then you glanced around, thought how strange you might look, and let the desire...'

Lead at a Pace They Can Follow

Kathyyee — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 01:48:22 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "Lead at a Pace They Can Follow" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}So, young man, you’re sick of the passivity that plagues our time. You’re tired of being a spiritual nothing in your household, parroting the same stale prayers before meals, unable to speak intelligibly of your faith or lead your family toward heaven. You’re done being an un-man: un-serious, un-helpful, un-faithful.

You are now awake to your purpose as head of the family. You groan over lost opportunities and resolve, “No more.” You determine to begin at once — hallelujah. But is it wise to begin everything all at once?

Long family devotions with little kids, where none existed before. Zero tolerance for theological error, when you yourself are still learning the faith. Severe standards of maturity in the home to make up for wasted years. Your spirit becomes exacting, exhorting, correcting — for their good! You feel pressure to catch up to where you should be by now. You turn up the heat; the undercooked becomes overcooked through good intentions, through zeal exercised without discernment. The bull charges forth, dragging his family behind him.

Brothers, we have a word from God teaching us how to lead onward without destroying those we love. A very brief word from Jacob in Genesis 33 helps us hedge against the dangers of overzealous leadership. I hesitate to go there, because for every one man who leads too hastily, nine others lead too slowly or not at all. To most men, I say, “Get up and get going! Pick up the pace! Heaven lies before us; flee from the wrath to come!” But to a few (including myself at different seasons), I implore, “Brother, lead on softly.”

'''Family Reunion'''

Jacob did Esau dirty. He knows it; Esau knows it.

At the behest of their mother, Rebekah, Jacob conned his blind father into giving him the blessing instead of Esau. He pretended to be Esau — his mom cooking Esau’s special dish. They even went so far as to glue hair on smooth Jacob to be furry like his brother.

The scheme worked. Jacob received Esau’s blessing, fulfilling the Lord’s declaration to their mother, but through questionable means. When Esau showed up for his blessing and discovered what had happened, he skipped ahead in the stages of grief. Rebekah informed Jacob, “Behold, your brother Esau comforts himself about you by planning to kill you” (Genesis 27:42). Jacob ran away.

Decades later, God tells Jacob to return home. He and his people have grown prosperous — as have Esau and his people. Two nations have formed, yet Jacob still fears to face his past. However, when this elder brother rides out to meet the younger, Esau receives Jacob home. They share a moment of reconciliation; then Esau invites Jacob and his family to follow him back to their territory in Seir.

Here we pick up the story and find our lesson. As Esau invites Jacob to accompany him and his warriors back, Jacob halts the jubilee to tell Esau that he can’t join him just now. Listen to Jacob’s pastoral words:

<blockquote>My lord knows that the children are frail, and that the nursing flocks and herds are a care to me. If they are driven hard for one day, all the flocks will die. Let my lord pass on ahead of his servant, and I will lead on slowly, at the pace of the livestock that are ahead of me and at the pace of the children, until I come to my lord in Seir. (Genesis 33:13–14)</blockquote>

In this polite refusal, we find wisdom to lead our loved ones well in this life. We must know ''whom'' we are leading to get ''our people home''.

'''Know Your Flock'''

Jacob enjoys fresh acceptance from Esau and blessing from God, but notice what he doesn’t do. He doesn’t ride off at full speed with Esau and his men. Rather, he looks back and around him and — whether or not he is making an excuse not to go with Esau — utters words of a true shepherd:

<blockquote>My lord knows that the children are frail, and that the nursing flocks and herds are a care to me. If they are driven hard for one day, all the flocks will die.</blockquote>

In other words, he considers ''whom'' he is leading. He knows his flock. They are a care to him. Full speed for ''him'' is not the best speed for them. He could ride off with his brother, if that was his goal, but what of his flock? What of the children? They are frail and the flocks nursing. He knows that if he drives them too hard — if he ''overdrives'' them, as the KJV puts it — all the flocks will die.

Too much of a good thing, too quickly, does exist. Requiring your four-year-old boy to memorize the whole Westminster Catechism might be premature. Maybe your church needs some teaching on eldership before you seek to change immediately. Perhaps your wife, discipled as she was in feminism, needs some patience and time to jettison the lies she has been brought up to believe. What is good in a future season for someone else may not be good in this season for your family. You may desire to ride on with Esau, but love and wisdom might have you walk slowly with your flock.

Brothers, you may even have to say no to some wonderful opportunity to gallop ahead. You may need to postpone going overseas or joining a beautiful church plant because the pace would drive your young family too hard. None of us has a ''generic'' flock, nor do we have an ''unchanging'' flock. We must know them season by season and consider what pace is best.

Prayer and fasting and wisdom are needed to discern when to increase the pace and not to. I do not mean to discourage you from following after great and hard things. But as shepherds, we must have the category of ''overdriving our flocks''. We need to know not only where we are leading but whom we are leading and the speed they can travel.

'''Lead Them Home'''

Brothers, lead at a pace they can follow. In some seasons, you will need to say, “Let my lord pass on ahead of his servant, and ''I will lead on slowly, at the pace of the livestock'' that are ahead of me and ''at the pace of the children,'' until I come to my lord in Seir.”

Jacob knows whom he leads. He is among them, knows their strengths and their frailties, knows what they can and cannot endure. And in that season of his life, a hard day of driving them at Esau’s pace could be fatal. Thus, he resolves to go slowly. Or, as the KJV beautifully has it, “I will lead on softly.” ''Lead on softly'' — does this ever describe your leadership?

Our aim is to get ''these people'' to ''that place'' where God dwells. We want a pace fast enough to get us there, but a pace that the younger members can endure. We determine shepherding speed not by how fast we can run, or how fast they can run for a short time, or even how fast they will run eventually, but by how fast they can safely travel now, for a sustained time, adjusting as we go.

A good shepherd wants to mature them, strengthen them, speed them up in due time, but he also wants them to survive. Aren’t you glad our Shepherd is like that? He pushes us and tests us, but we also know this very well: “He will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms; he will carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young” (Isaiah 40:11).

Thus, we also say, “I will lead on softly.” We do not crush with ideals or keep up at another family’s speed or forget that we are strengthened by grace. We consider where we are going, whom we are leading, and how best to get them to that better country.

Lead at a Pace They Can Follow

Kathyyee — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 01:48:10 GMT

Kathyyee:

Lead at a Pace They Can Follow

Kathyyee — Tue, 02 Jun 2026 14:30:09 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}So, young man, you’re sick of the passivity that plagues our time. You’re tired of being a spiritual nothing in your household, parroting the same stale prayers befor...'

{{info}}So, young man, you’re sick of the passivity that plagues our time. You’re tired of being a spiritual nothing in your household, parroting the same stale prayers before meals, unable to speak intelligibly of your faith or lead your family toward heaven. You’re done being an un-man: un-serious, un-helpful, un-faithful.

You are now awake to your purpose as head of the family. You groan over lost opportunities and resolve, “No more.” You determine to begin at once — hallelujah. But is it wise to begin everything all at once?

Long family devotions with little kids, where none existed before. Zero tolerance for theological error, when you yourself are still learning the faith. Severe standards of maturity in the home to make up for wasted years. Your spirit becomes exacting, exhorting, correcting — for their good! You feel pressure to catch up to where you should be by now. You turn up the heat; the undercooked becomes overcooked through good intentions, through zeal exercised without discernment. The bull charges forth, dragging his family behind him.

Brothers, we have a word from God teaching us how to lead onward without destroying those we love. A very brief word from Jacob in Genesis 33 helps us hedge against the dangers of overzealous leadership. I hesitate to go there, because for every one man who leads too hastily, nine others lead too slowly or not at all. To most men, I say, “Get up and get going! Pick up the pace! Heaven lies before us; flee from the wrath to come!” But to a few (including myself at different seasons), I implore, “Brother, lead on softly.”

'''Family Reunion'''

Jacob did Esau dirty. He knows it; Esau knows it.

At the behest of their mother, Rebekah, Jacob conned his blind father into giving him the blessing instead of Esau. He pretended to be Esau — his mom cooking Esau’s special dish. They even went so far as to glue hair on smooth Jacob to be furry like his brother.

The scheme worked. Jacob received Esau’s blessing, fulfilling the Lord’s declaration to their mother, but through questionable means. When Esau showed up for his blessing and discovered what had happened, he skipped ahead in the stages of grief. Rebekah informed Jacob, “Behold, your brother Esau comforts himself about you by planning to kill you” (Genesis 27:42). Jacob ran away.

Decades later, God tells Jacob to return home. He and his people have grown prosperous — as have Esau and his people. Two nations have formed, yet Jacob still fears to face his past. However, when this elder brother rides out to meet the younger, Esau receives Jacob home. They share a moment of reconciliation; then Esau invites Jacob and his family to follow him back to their territory in Seir.

Here we pick up the story and find our lesson. As Esau invites Jacob to accompany him and his warriors back, Jacob halts the jubilee to tell Esau that he can’t join him just now. Listen to Jacob’s pastoral words:

My lord knows that the children are frail, and that the nursing flocks and herds are a care to me. If they are driven hard for one day, all the flocks will die. Let my lord pass on ahead of his servant, and I will lead on slowly, at the pace of the livestock that are ahead of me and at the pace of the children, until I come to my lord in Seir. (Genesis 33:13–14)

In this polite refusal, we find wisdom to lead our loved ones well in this life. We must know whom we are leading to get our people home.

'''Know Your Flock'''

Jacob enjoys fresh acceptance from Esau and blessing from God, but notice what he doesn’t do. He doesn’t ride off at full speed with Esau and his men. Rather, he looks back and around him and — whether or not he is making an excuse not to go with Esau — utters words of a true shepherd:

My lord knows that the children are frail, and that the nursing flocks and herds are a care to me. If they are driven hard for one day, all the flocks will die.

In other words, he considers whom he is leading. He knows his flock. They are a care to him. Full speed for him is not the best speed for them. He could ride off with his brother, if that was his goal, but what of his flock? What of the children? They are frail and the flocks nursing. He knows that if he drives them too hard — if he overdrives them, as the KJV puts it — all the flocks will die.

Too much of a good thing, too quickly, does exist. Requiring your four-year-old boy to memorize the whole Westminster Catechism might be premature. Maybe your church needs some teaching on eldership before you seek to change immediately. Perhaps your wife, discipled as she was in feminism, needs some patience and time to jettison the lies she has been brought up to believe. What is good in a future season for someone else may not be good in this season for your family. You may desire to ride on with Esau, but love and wisdom might have you walk slowly with your flock.

Brothers, you may even have to say no to some wonderful opportunity to gallop ahead. You may need to postpone going overseas or joining a beautiful church plant because the pace would drive your young family too hard. None of us has a generic flock, nor do we have an unchanging flock. We must know them season by season and consider what pace is best.

Prayer and fasting and wisdom are needed to discern when to increase the pace and not to. I do not mean to discourage you from following after great and hard things. But as shepherds, we must have the category of overdriving our flocks. We need to know not only where we are leading but whom we are leading and the speed they can travel.

'''Lead Them Home'''

Brothers, lead at a pace they can follow. In some seasons, you will need to say, “Let my lord pass on ahead of his servant, and I will lead on slowly, at the pace of the livestock that are ahead of me and at the pace of the children, until I come to my lord in Seir.”

Jacob knows whom he leads. He is among them, knows their strengths and their frailties, knows what they can and cannot endure. And in that season of his life, a hard day of driving them at Esau’s pace could be fatal. Thus, he resolves to go slowly. Or, as the KJV beautifully has it, “I will lead on softly.” Lead on softly — does this ever describe your leadership?

Our aim is to get these people to that place where God dwells. We want a pace fast enough to get us there, but a pace that the younger members can endure. We determine shepherding speed not by how fast we can run, or how fast they can run for a short time, or even how fast they will run eventually, but by how fast they can safely travel now, for a sustained time, adjusting as we go.

A good shepherd wants to mature them, strengthen them, speed them up in due time, but he also wants them to survive. Aren’t you glad our Shepherd is like that? He pushes us and tests us, but we also know this very well: “He will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms; he will carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young” (Isaiah 40:11).

Thus, we also say, “I will lead on softly.” We do not crush with ideals or keep up at another family’s speed or forget that we are strengthened by grace. We consider where we are going, whom we are leading, and how best to get them to that better country.

Keep Praying for a Breakthrough

Kathyyee — Mon, 01 Jun 2026 23:22:40 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "Keep Praying for a Breakthrough" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}Once, long ago, you prayed for a loved one’s salvation earnestly and often. Now, you still pray sometimes, but you can barely bring yourself to hope for the answer.

Or maybe you once pleaded for grace against a stubborn character flaw or besetting sin. Now, you’ve succumbed to a sort of fatalism about yourself. Some things just don’t change.

Or perhaps you once sought God for a relational breakthrough. Now, though the sorrow stays deep, reconciliation seems all but impossible.

Most of us can think of some desire we once brought before God almost without ceasing. As far as we could tell, the request honored him and aligned with his word. So, we prayed and took our stand, our eyes open for the answer.

But then weeks passed, and then months, and then years, maybe many years. And gradually, we stopped asking so often. As hope faded, so too did our prayers.

Dear brother or sister, however many months or years have passed since you last asked — really asked — God to fulfill some godly desire, I invite you to ask again and keep asking. And I want to do so with some help from George Müller (1805–1898), a friend who has given my own prayers fresh hope.

'''Fifty-Year Prayers'''

Müller’s life is, from one angle, a story of answered prayer. At the beginning of his orphan ministry in Bristol, England, he resolved to ask no one for money except God. The result was a life of constant prayer — and constant answers to prayer. “I should not go a particle too far,” Müller said in his seventies, “[that] I have had thirty thousand answers to prayer, either in the same hour or the same day that the requests were made.”

Müller offered that miraculous testimony, however, as the backdrop to a much different experience: “One or the other might suppose all my prayers were thus promptly answered. No; not all of them. Sometimes I have had to wait weeks, months or even years; sometimes many years” (''Delighted in God'', 193).

In 1844, for example, Müller began praying daily for the salvation of five friends. A year and a half later, the first was saved; five years after that, the second was saved; six years more, the third was saved. But then forty years passed, and the final two remained unsaved. Müller, however, kept praying — every day.

“When once I am persuaded that a thing is right and for the glory of God,” he wrote, “I go on praying for it until the answer comes.” Then, turning to Christians like you and me, he offered a gentle correction: “The great fault of the children of God is, ''they do not continue in prayer; they do not go on praying; they do not persevere''. If they desire anything for God’s glory, they should pray until they get it” (223–24).

When the years wear on, when the answer delays even for decades, what would Müller counsel us to do? ''Continue; go on; persevere.'' Keep praying for a breakthrough.

'''Ask, Seek, Knock'''

Maybe we wonder, though, whether Müller was right to keep praying for answers that did not come. After all, Scripture gives us examples of saints who are told to stop asking for something: Moses on the edge of the promised land (Deuteronomy 3:25–26), Paul with his thorn (2 Corinthians 12:8–9). So, we might even wonder if persistent prayer for the same thing displeases God. At some point, shouldn’t we take his delay as his decline?

No doubt, a prayer life can become lopsided. We can so focus on one prayer that we neglect many other good prayers. Or we can desire something good for reasons far different from “hallowed be your name” (Matthew 6:9). But if we are persuaded, as Müller says, “that a thing is right and for the glory of God,” and if God’s glory remains the passion beneath our prayers, then Scripture offers plenty of encouragements to ''keep praying''.

Didn’t Jesus tell his disciples parables “to the effect that they ought always to pray and not lose heart” (Luke 18:1)? The widow asked and kept asking till her requests beat down the judge (Luke 18:4–5). The late-night knocker pounded the door till his friend got out of bed and gave him what he wanted (Luke 11:5–8). So, Jesus says, “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you” (Luke 11:9).

As we look at his ministry more broadly, wasn’t it the persistent people who received what they asked for? The crowds shushed the blind man, but he kept shouting for mercy — and got it (Mark 10:46–52). Jesus initially ignored the Canaanite mother, but she kept kneeling before the Master’s table until he gave her a crumb (Matthew 15:21–28).

Teachings and stories like these move us toward the same conclusion the commentator Derek Kidner drew from the Psalms: “God, it seems, prefers an excess of boldness in prayer to an excess of caution” (''Psalms 73–150'', 319). So, unless you have a compelling reason for why you should no longer pray for some deep, God-honoring desire, ''keep praying''.

'''Grace in God’s Delays'''

Maybe you’re persuaded to keep praying. But you wonder, as I do, why God designed prayer to work this way. If God can open any door at any time, why does he sometimes keep us knocking for so long? If God can answer thirty thousand prayers the same day Müller prayed them, why did he wait fifty years before answering others?

Once, Müller and his staff at the orphanage were praying for God to provide money they dearly needed. Finally, when they had no way to pay for the children’s breakfast the next morning, God sent funds through a man who had been staying nearby. Müller reflected,

<blockquote>That the money had been so near the Orphan-Houses for several days without being given is a plain proof that it was in the beginning in the heart of God to help us; but because He delights in the prayers of His children, He had allowed us to pray so long; also to try our faith, and to make the answer so much the sweeter. (''Delighted in God'', 82)</blockquote>

God surely has many reasons for his delays. But here Müller fastens upon three that help us not lose heart.

'''DEEPER COMMUNION'''

First, God sometimes delays because ''he delights in the prayers of his children''. Christian, God loves your humble, sincere prayers. He loves to see your soul knee-bent. He loves to hear you renounce self-reliance and confess that “what is impossible with man is possible with God” (Luke 18:27). Earnest, needy, believing prayers are incense before him, a sweet-smelling pleasure (Revelation 8:3–4). And when the months or years go on, and all earthly probabilities pass away, he delights to find you ''still praying''.

Unanswered prayer can feel like God distancing himself from us. But what if his delays are invitations to draw nearer — to love him above all answers and to believe he can still answer?

'''STRONGER FAITH'''

Second, God sometimes delays because ''he wants to try our faith''. We need faith, strong faith, to keep praying for something that has not come — to keep waiting for a sun that won’t rise, to keep knocking on a door that won’t budge. The faith of many has withered in the waiting. It can feel easier to believe God doesn’t hear or doesn’t care than to ask and ask again.

But God ''does'' hear; he ''does'' care — and he is able, with a word, to end the long delay. So, though we have no promise that God will answer our prayers exactly as we expect him to, unanswered prayer can foster in us the trust of Abraham, who “grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God” (Romans 4:20), fully convinced that God could fill an old woman’s womb — or rescue a prodigal, or bring personal breakthrough, or rekindle cold love.

'''SWEETER JOY'''

Finally, God sometimes delays because ''he wants to make the answer so much the sweeter''. God is devoted to making you as happy in him as you can be. And he knows that sometimes deeper joy lies on the other side of a long delay.

God wants you to look at answered prayers like Abraham and Sarah looked at Isaac, this son named laughter. They could hardly hold him or hear his voice without laughing, astonished at God’s goodness (Genesis 21:3–7). But they would not have laughed as they did if they hadn’t waited as they did. Theirs was a vintage joy, strong and well-aged. And so is ours when we pray and wait, pray and wait, and then finally find the answer.

'''What We Ask or Better'''

Alongside these good reasons for God’s delays, Müller rested his soul upon another mighty truth as he persisted in prayer: “Our heavenly Father never takes anything from His children” — or withholds anything from his children — “unless He means to give them something better” (''Autobiography'', 179). If God should never give you what you ask for, dear saint, he has something better in mind for you.

You may struggle to grasp how his ''no'' is better than his ''yes''; you may need to wait till heaven to see clearly. But as surely as God gave up his Son for you, he will not give you worse than what you ask for (Romans 8:28; 32). In the life and death and resurrection of Jesus, he has already done the hardest and given the best. Now, the gospel assures you just how willing your Father is to “give good things to those who ask him” (Matthew 7:11).

Persistent prayer dies under the lie that God doesn’t like to give good things. He ''does'' like to give good things — the best things, gifts far better than we can ask or imagine. So, take your good desires, your God-honoring longings, and keep asking, keep seeking, keep knocking. Your Father invites you to do so. And if he says no, he will only give you something better.

Keep Praying for a Breakthrough

Kathyyee — Mon, 01 Jun 2026 23:22:22 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}Once, long ago, you prayed for a loved one’s salvation earnestly and often. Now, you still pray sometimes, but you can barely bring yourself to hope for the answer. Or...'

The Dangerous Days Past Middle Age

Kathyyee — Mon, 01 Jun 2026 23:13:52 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "The Dangerous Days Past Middle Age" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}I have an image in my mind of the godly old lady I want to be someday: soft-spoken, kind to all, full of wisdom. Having logged half a century under God’s sanctifying sandpaper, I should be well on my way by now. And, taking stock, I can see that I don’t have to rein in my temper as much as I used to, and there’s precious little out there that tempts me to covet. What I am learning, however, is that as I age, I sin differently. Sin is still “crouching at the door.” It just comes in a different form.

I can easily be fooled into mistaking apathy for godly serenity. I might take comfort in the absence of “fiery” sins like lust and anger — yet I may be blind to the pride, selfishness, and slothfulness that have crept into their place. Time can make us lazy, and we’re all subject to its subtle drift. Perhaps the sifting question for the aging Christian is, “Am I killing sin, or have I just traded one destructive path for another?”

The sad failures of David, Solomon, and Hezekiah suggest three solemn warnings for the seasoned Christian who wants to finish well.

'''1. Beware the temptation to coast.'''

As a much younger woman, I heard a well-respected Christian leader admit, “I could take my foot off the gas pedal today, and no one would ever know it. But I would, and God would.” From Screwtape’s devilish perspective, C.S. Lewis describes the “long, dull, monotonous years of middle-aged prosperity or middle-aged adversity” as “excellent campaigning weather” (Screwtape Letters, 155). He added, “Indeed, the safest road to Hell is the gradual one — the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts” (61).

This description perfectly fits “the time when kings go out to battle,” as David, coasting “on the roof of the king’s house,” set himself up for moral collapse rather than tending to business (2 Samuel 11:1–2). Then, later in the monarchy’s downward spiral, King Hezekiah, concerned mainly that there be “peace and security” in his own time (2 Kings 20:19), took “the gentle slope” at the end of his reign. Apparently, if he could cruise along in safety for the rest of his life, he didn’t care that Babylon would eventually be the instrument of God’s judgment upon Israel.

With David’s and Hezekiah’s backslidings before our eyes, we might ask ourselves, “And what about me? As I age, will I coast — or will I press on?” Personally, keeping my foot on the gas pedal will look like deep study and preparation for every ministry opportunity, resisting the temptation to whip up a twenty-minute devotional from the scraps of my previous teachings. It will require that I take captive the subtle sins that go undetected by others, listening instead to the voice of the Spirit as he filters every thought, word, and deed. It will mean that I never stop praying desperate prayers for God’s power to carry me and to keep me in the battle against sin and the fulfillment of my calling.

'''2. Beware the tendency toward cynicism.'''

By the time we reach midlife, we’ve likely accumulated a fair number of reasons to succumb to cynicism: the disappointment of prodigal or estranged adult children, the challenges of the sandwich generation, the heartache of difficult diagnoses, or even the death of a spouse. It’s all enough to make us join Solomon in singing the blues about the days when “the grasshopper drags itself along, and desire fails” (Ecclesiastes 12:5).

But Jude’s chilling description of “fruitless trees in late autumn, twice dead, uprooted” sends me in search of fruitfulness rather than slothful cynicism in this season (verse 12). If I give in to cynicism, I will find myself unable to enter sympathetically into the world of young family members and friends. Dismissive and emotionally unavailable, I’ll soon forget what it was like to care.

By contrast, the apostle Paul endured every indignity, trauma, and flavor of “church hurt” that we can imagine without bowing to cynicism and taking his hand off the plow. With unquenchable optimism, he never doubted God’s ability and willingness “to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think” in people, churches, and situations that he could have easily scorned (Ephesians 3:20).

With our own eyes firmly fixed on the character of God, time may test and try us, but it can also soften us. We’ve lived through some hard things, but we’ve also seen God’s goodness and faithfulness in ten thousand different lights. By grace, we get to choose where our mind’s focus will rest. We can keep listening to the heartaches and challenges of the people in front of us.

We weathered the ages and stages of parenting long ago, but Spirit-fueled compassion keeps us listening with sympathy to the sleep-deprived mother of a toddler. We know for certain that the fate of the free world does not rest on our teen grandson’s failed driver’s license test, but we resist the temptation to apply a quick Band-Aid to his disappointment. Instead, we trust God for the gracious flexibility to enter the teenage world — and the worlds of all other kinds of people we encounter.

'''3. Beware grasping after youthfulness.'''

Was David’s moral failure with Bathsheba a symptom of his desire to prove he was still “a ladies’ man”? Was her youthful beauty the trigger that overcame his good sense? When he wrote Ecclesiastes, was Solomon lamenting the effects of the aging process on his joints? Regardless of the answers to these questions, their lives certainly attest to the danger of chasing an eternal springtime.

Our culture also worships youthfulness and fears the aging process, having long ago lost touch with a biblical view of aging well. Gray hair, which Scripture describes as “a crown of glory” (Proverbs 16:31), signals obsolescence or even invisibility to the man or woman whose greatest treasure is found in this world. Certainly, we don’t give in to our changing bodies without a fight. We exercise and eat sensibly — but we don’t listen to bad advice from advertisers who tell us we can stop the clock. Nor do we chase pleasure and make irresponsible choices in an effort to feel “alive” again.

Embracing the gift of years will look like mentoring younger women, partnering with God in creating the next generation of confident disciples of Christ and students of the word. As we steward our experience and trust God with the reality of our waning strength, we will be poised to serve the body of Christ with a depth of maturity that comes only through long-haul faithfulness.

Grace to finish well will come to us through humble, routine habits of holiness, spiritual disciplines that don’t deliver a big dopamine rush but provide a foundation for a faithful life. Regular communion with God through his word, confession of sin, and receiving daily grace for the “normal” Christian life doesn’t look very shiny unless it is seen in light of Paul’s laser focus:

<blockquote>Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 3:13–14)</blockquote>

The prize is not a good reputation or a stellar legacy. The prize is Christ, and the commitment to pursue his “upward call” produces the benefit of a life well-lived. Thanks be to God for the cross, our sacred starting place and our only hope for a faithful finish.

The Dangerous Days Past Middle Age

Kathyyee — Mon, 01 Jun 2026 23:13:39 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}I have an image in my mind of the godly old lady I want to be someday: soft-spoken, kind to all, full of wisdom. Having logged half a century under God’s sanctifying sa...'

Tempted and Unarmed

Kathyyee — Mon, 11 May 2026 21:12:34 GMT

Kathyyee: Protected "Tempted and Unarmed" ([edit=sysop] (indefinite) [move=sysop] (indefinite))

{{info}}'''Why We Need the Armor of God'''

It was the boy’s first day of junior high. All was going well until three older kids took his lunch, ruffled his hair, and stuffed him in a locker. They snarled at his squeals and high-fived one another as they walked away. What the bullies didn’t know, though, was that the kid in the locker was the little brother of the football team’s starting middle linebacker.

After lunch, the boy told his brother what happened. His brother looked him in the eyes. “Let’s go.” As the boy came to his locker, the bullies were waiting for him, grinning. But he hadn’t come alone this time. He came in the strength of his older brother. That was the last day they messed with him.

As Christians, we have a dangerous adversary. We face something far scarier than getting stuffed in a locker. Our enemy wants to devour our faith and drag us to hell.

So, when the apostle Paul instructs the Ephesian church about spiritual warfare, he begins by exhorting them not to go into the battle in their own strength. He reminds them of their Elder Brother. He says, “Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil” (Ephesians 6:10–11).

'''Marching into War'''

Jesus is on a mission to rescue captive souls from a strong enemy (Mark 3:23; Luke 19:10). Through his crucifixion and resurrection, Jesus delivered a mortal wound to our formidable foe (Colossians 2:15; 1 John 3:8). He now calls sinners to flee from Satan’s captivity, and align with his everlasting kingdom (Acts 17:30). He commissions his church to join him in taking the gospel to the ends of the earth (Matthew 28:18–20). This means that, when we follow Jesus, we follow him into a war zone.

Though Satan has been decisively defeated, and his future is doomed, he lives for the present. He still schemes (2 Corinthians 2:11), stalks (1 Peter 5:8), deceives (Revelation 12:9), ensnares (2 Timothy 2:26), hinders (1 Thessalonians 2:18), harasses (2 Corinthians 12:7), and attacks us with fiery darts of temptation (Ephesians 6:16). We wage war against his dark forces, but not with physical artillery (2 Corinthians 10:3–4). Rather, we are commanded to “be strong in the Lord and . . . put on the whole armor of God” (Ephesians 6:10–11). When we come to the battle, we do not fight alone. We fight in the strength of our Lord.

'''What Is the Armor of God?'''

On the wall of my childhood Sunday school classroom hung a poster of a Roman soldier’s armor. It explained that God’s armor corresponded to what those first-century soldiers wore. While there are similarities, Paul desires our imaginations to be captured by something far greater than a Roman soldier. He wants us to see our warrior God, who powerfully fights “against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12). The focus of spiritual warfare isn’t Satan or an imaginary Roman soldier; it’s our Savior.

Paul wasn’t using a contemporary illustration to explain spiritual warfare; he was reminding the Ephesians of the prophet Isaiah’s presentation of our warrior King. The afflicted take courage because a Spirit-filled Savior girds himself with a ''belt of truth'' to speak on their behalf (Isaiah 11:1–5). God’s people erupt with singing because the Lord is coming with shoes to pronounce gospel peace (Isaiah 52:1–10). This Savior enters evil’s darkness with a ''breastplate of righteousness'' and a ''helmet of salvation'' to deliver his people from oppression (Isaiah 59:17). The Lord’s servant speaks words like a ''sharp sword'', bringing salvation to the ends of the earth (Isaiah 49:1–6). It is to this Savior that King David flees to be ''shielded by faith'' during his enemy’s attacks (Psalm 18:29–42).

Too often, spiritual warfare is seen as an individual believer’s call to put on armor and fight demonic forces alone, as if this is a test to prove his faith. This couldn’t be further from the truth. Spiritual warfare is about God’s people joining their Lord in his warfare. He equips (Ephesians 4:7–16) and empowers us (1 Corinthians 12:11) to accompany him into enemy territory and further his kingdom purposes (Matthew 28:20).

'''Whole Armor of God'''

Putting on God’s armor isn’t like dressing with clothes from your closet. There’s no mixing and matching, no switching out for whatever the season may require. Spiritual armor is applied by faith, daily — and the entire letter of Ephesians teaches us how to put it on.

'''Belt of Truth'''

Satan labors to make you a liar like him. But we put on the Lord’s ''belt of truth'' by “[putting] away falsehood” and “[speaking] the truth” to one another (Ephesians 4:25). We don’t hatefully deceive like the devil, but “[speak] the truth in love” (Ephesians 4:15). We don’t cover our sins but confess them. We don’t slander but speak honest words about others. Putting on the belt of truth is an act of faith that resists Satan’s call to be a liar like him (John 8:44).

'''Breastplate of Righteousness, Helmet of Salvation'''

Satan wants you to join him in rebelling against God. But we resist him by putting on the ''breastplate of righteousness'' and the ''helmet of salvation''. We “put off [our] old self . . . [and] put on the new self . . . in true righteousness” (Ephesians 4:22–24). We stand confidently in Christ’s imputed righteousness rather than adopt worldly identities (Ephesians 1–3).

We step courageously in Christlike practical righteousness rather than follow worldly ways (Ephesians 4–6). We resist sexual immorality in order to show true love (Ephesians 5:1–6). We resist corrupting talk and crude joking by speaking grace-filled words of edification (Ephesians 4:29) We do not get drunk with worldly indulgence but serve others in the power of the Spirit (Ephesians 5:18–21).

'''Shoes of Gospel Peace'''

Satan hates the good news about Christ’s blood and the forgiveness it purchases. He hates to see sinners reconciled to God (Ephesians 2:1–10) and to one another in the church (Ephesians 2:11–22). He wars to hinder evangelism among unbelievers (Luke 8:12) and strives to stoke angry division among the redeemed (Ephesians 4:26–27).

But hell’s gates will not prevail against Jesus’s church (Matthew 16:18). So, we lace up ''shoes of gospel peace'' and sow gospel seed (Romans 10:15). Inspired by his grace, we “[bear] with one another in love” and are “eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace” (Ephesians 4:1–3).

'''Shield of Faith'''

Satan stokes fear in hopes that we will retreat. He threatens us with social rejection, persecution, pain, and death (Hebrews 2:14). But rather than retreat, we take up the ''shield of faith''. We draw near to Jesus, and hide without shame under his cover. We embrace his words to the persecuted church in Smyrna: “Do not fear what you are about to suffer. Behold, the devil is about to throw some of you into prison. . . . Be faithful unto death, and I will give you the crown of life” (Revelation 2:10). We “do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul” (Matthew 10:28). We rest knowing that, even if we die for Christ, we shall forever live with Christ (John 11:25–26).

'''Sword of the Spirit'''

Satan seduces and accuses us with lies. But we take up the ''sword of the Spirit'' and strike down his lofty arguments (2 Corinthians 10:5). When he promises fleeting pleasures, we emulate Jesus by striking them down with God’s word (Matthew 4:1–11). When he heaps shame and condemnation upon us, we slash them with scriptural assurances (Romans 8:1). When we are threatened by Satan’s requests to sift us, we pray, knowing that Jesus ever lives to intercede for us (Luke 22:31; Hebrews 7:25).

Some of these descriptions may not seem like spiritual warfare because they seem so normal, so everyday. But while spiritual warfare can involve demonic possession and exorcisms, it most often takes place in the mundane details of life. Why do you think confessing your sin is so difficult? Why is obedience so challenging? Why are you so afraid to evangelize? Why is forgiveness so daunting? Why is prayer so marred by distraction?

It is because the world, the flesh, and the devil are continually working against what our Lord is warring for. Yet we do not lose heart, because we face them in our Lord’s strength, knowing that “he who is in you is greater than he who is in the world” (1 John 4:4). We go into battle with Christ who strengthens us.

'''When Satan Strikes'''

At times, we fail to put on the armor. We get busy with our own pursuits, and when the struggle sneaks up on us, we try to fight in our own strength. We step out from under our Lord’s strength and are overcome by temptation. We lie instead of speaking truth. We harbor bitterness instead of forgiving. We slander instead of pursuing peace. We justify sin instead of repenting of it. We indulge our lust instead of loving God. We grieve the Spirit and sap our joy (Ephesians 4:30).

When these fiery darts strike us, we are left wounded and wearied. Our spiritual strength is sapped, desire for prayer dissipates, singing is silenced, shame is stoked, fellowship is avoided, and our taste for temptation increases.

When this happens, we must not lose heart, but rather cry to our warrior God, our great Savior, who leaves none of his fellow soldiers behind. He will not allow us to be snatched from his grasp (John 10:28). Rather, he will throw us over his shoulder, and take us to green pastures and still waters, where he will restore our souls (Psalm 23:1–3). In him we are strengthened to go back into battle, knowing that our warrior God “will soon crush Satan under your feet” (Romans 16:20).

Tempted and Unarmed

Kathyyee — Mon, 11 May 2026 21:05:52 GMT

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{info}}'''Why We Need the Armor of God''' It was the boy’s first day of junior high. All was going well until three older kids took his lunch, ruffled his hair, and stuffed h...'

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

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{{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

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{{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

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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

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{{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

Kathyyee: Created page with '{{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 ...'

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))

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<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.